Temptation
by DoseofReality
Summary: AN: Backwards editing, and I changed my penname. Don't freak out. Back to working on the story. I promise. And the site has apparently murdered my section breaks. Damn you, stupid site.
1. Chapter 1

DAMN YOU FANFICTION, FOR DESTROYING MY SECTION BREAKS!

Ugh. Yeah, so I'm back, and I'm looking over this to edit it and BAM! My section breaks are gone! Everywhere! Bastards.

**Teaser**: An innocent Jedi Padawan, cast to the clutches of an evil Sith Lord, a man she has been taught to despise and see as a monster. But what happens when the man she finds beneath that mask is nothing like she imagined? What happens when her soul sees his and recognizes that they have a mutual need, resulting in a bond that comes about despite her best efforts to refuse this wickedly fascinating man?

* * *

A tall figure, clad in a black cape and robes, hooded, masked, and encased in a suit of reddish-black armor stared out into the vast expanse of darkness before him, waiting. A battle was raging on around him, ships were exploding in balls of brilliantly flaming debris, laser fire was thick, vacillating between green and red, the Sith and the Republic battling for this small stretch of space. He seemed to almost be bored with the battle as it progressed, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, feet spread a little wider than shoulder width for balance as the ship rocked from the explosions that ripped through other craft's hulls and tried vainly to bring the ship he was on down with each hit.

He made a mental note to promote the young commander on his flagship to Vice Admiral – the man was a quick thinker on his feet, a formidable tactician, loyal, and perhaps most of all, had the gift of foresight that seemed to be lacking from so many other commanders. The man always calculated the risks long term, as well as short term, and it had already paid off many a time.

Turning his masked head slightly, he saw that a group of Jedi had boarded his flagship and were systematically making their way up to the command deck where he was currently standing. Suddenly, the door to the command deck came flying out of the wall, the duracrete explosion ripping the metal to shreds and allowing a contingent of Republic soldiers to flood the room. An intense firefight commenced, and yet still, he did not turn his gaze away from the stars. Two soldiers tried unsuccessfully to sneak up behind him; one met his end by being Force-thrust into the power conduit next to his armored body; the second was lifted off the ground and choked, though not fatally.

He felt the Jedi enter the room – three of them – and finally killed the man with a telepathic squeeze on his throat, his trachea collapsing with a sickening crunch and his neck snapping with an equally loud and visceral crack. If anything, the armored man's boredom only seemed to increase as the Jedi cautiously approached from behind him, the hum of their three lightsabers audible to his ears, even over the chaos that was ensuing outside the metal walls that protected them. He finally turned, calling his lightsaber to his right hand and twirling it once, lazily, and bringing it to a rest with the tip pointing towards the female in the front of the Jedi strike team, his crimson blade parallel to the floor and about shoulder height.

"You cannot win, Revan," the female in the front told him with a falsely confident voice. Revan could feel the fear rolling off of her in tidal waves, and commended her for her bravery to confront him, even though he could tell she knew she would likely die on this command deck. He felt a flicker of an emotion that seemed eerily familiar to empathy and stared hard at the young woman in front of him. She was of medium height, maybe 5'6", and had a slim but athletic build that was infinitely accentuated by the taupe body suit she wore that clung to her every curve. Her hair was a dark brunette and pulled back from her young face by two pigtails, one on either side. Her face itself glistened with sweat, making strands of her dark hair stick to her skin; Revan noticed at once the color of her eyes – a light grey that seemed to draw his eyes to hers, as much as he tried to look away.

"Bastila, we need to hurry," one of the other Jedi told her in a strained voice, obviously not happy with the situation either. Revan smiled beneath his mask; so this was the famous Bastila Shan, Padawan of the Jedi Order and student in the art of Battle Meditation. His smile quickly turned to a frown as he processed this information. Why would the Jedi Order send the one person who had been keeping them from being utterly defeated into battle, and to confront the Dark Lord of the Sith no less? Either they were very desperate, or they knew something he didn't, and Revan had a feeling it was the latter.

Ignoring that new information for the moment, Revan advanced slowly on the trio of Jedi in front of him, a satisfied smirk underneath his mask as they backed up at his pace, never letting him come any closer. He lunged suddenly, cutting down the Jedi to Bastila's left and watching her reaction as her friend's lifeless body dropped heavily to the metal floor with a dull thud. Her face remained impassive for the most part, but he could see the anger simmering beneath her grey orbs at his slaying of her companion. Revan cocked his head at the Jedi behind her and he flew across the room, a sharp piece of metal that was wrenched at an angle stopping his progress. Bastila's head turned just enough to see the spray of blood and the red-slicked metal protruding from her ally's gut before she quickly turned back to Revan, her grip on her yellow lightsaber tightening in much the same way her stomach was knotting.

Revan watched her body, seeing the tenseness, the shallowness and rapidity of her breathing, the way her nostrils flared ever so slightly, the dilation of her pupils making her grey irises appear smaller. He couldn't suppress a smirk at her reaction, thinking how fear was the sister to arousal, their symptoms so similar. He advanced on her, making his lightsaber strikes light and probing and ensuring that she would be able to block them.

"You're going to kill me anyway," she growled at him, the intensity in her face making her even more attractive. "Stop mocking me and just do it, dammit!"

Revan's smirk turned to a grin beneath his mask and he deactivated his lightsaber, clipping it back onto his belt. He spread his arms wide, challenging her silently to hit him, daring her to plunge her yellow lightsaber into his chest. Bastila's thrust was quick and precise, but even so, Revan easily sidestepped her attack and grabbed her small wrists with one hand, wrenching the saber from her hands and tossing it aside, his other arm clamping itself around her middle and keeping her close enough so that she couldn't kick backwards to hurt him.

"Let me go you son of a –"

An explosion ripped through the command deck, slamming into Revan full force and hurling him and his prisoner to the ground with incredible force. Bastila smacked her head roughly against the metal floor and saw white explode across her field of vision, blackness threatening soon after, but she managed to stay conscious. Grunting under Revan's heavy weight, she wriggled around until she could push the Sith Lord off of her. He rolled to the side and hit the deck with a dull thump, his body unmoving, blood forming in a pool underneath him as soon as his back hit the ground. Bastila knelt beside him, a panic threatening to override her rational thought. She was saved having to think, however, as a solitary survivor, a Sith soldier in full armor, skidded to a halt beside her.

"Is he dead?" the soldier asked tersely, his voice strained.

Bastila shook her head. "No, but –"

"Keep him alive! I'll see if there are any working escape pods!"

Bastila's voice was drowned out by the groaning of the ship as it began to slowly break apart. She stared back down at the man beneath her, thinking that she could end everything if she were to just let him die. A strong wave of compassion suddenly gripped her out of nowhere, thinking that she wouldn't want to die like this, and she did the only thing she could think of: she reached out through the Force and grasped his feeble and quickly fading life signature, holding on for all she was worth, feeling strangely coupled to Revan as she did so.

To her surprise, the Sith soldier returned, grabbing her roughly and dragging her up to her feet. He kicked her lightsaber to her hands with the toe of his boot and hoisted Revan up onto his shoulders, sinking under the Sith Lord's weight.

"C'mon," he grunted. "Escape pods this way...two left. You get into one – I've already programmed...coordinates into both."

"Why are you doing this?" Bastila yelled over the wailing sirens and explosions.

The Sith said nothing as he shoved her into one of the escape pods, slammed the door shut and smacked the 'eject' button. He was already in his own escape pod with Darth Revan before Bastila's pod fully made it out of the launch port and was ejecting himself soon after. The Jedi's question returned to his mind.

Why _was_ he doing this?

* * *

**(Revan's Flagship)**

The entire staff of the medical facility was tasked with the job of making sure Revan didn't die, and they went about it with the air of those afraid to lose their lives. And they were right to do so – the odds of them losing their lives if Revan lost his were high. Malak would more than likely have them executed for their failure. As such, for an entire two weeks, Revan's body was injected with more kolto than it would have taken to save a dying Krayt Dragon and monitored closely until he was conscious. Unfortunately, the doctors had not been able to remove the debris that had embedded itself into his body due to the fact that he had already lost far too much blood. The moment he was conscious, however, he was informed that he needed to be 'operated' on.

Revan's face was stoical as the doctor slowly extricated a metal shard from the Dark Lord's left calf and placed the bloody shrapnel into a pan filled with an inch of water, which was already a sanguine color from various other metal pieces lying at the bottom. The doctor gently probed the wound for any minutia that might have been imbedded in the skin or muscle tissue as well but found none.

"That's the last piece, Revan. I would recommend a kolto tank for two hours, just to get a high concentration of the agent back into your blood."

"That won't be necessary. I am capable of healing myself," Revan replied, using the Force to do so as he spoke. "I would, however, take any kolto injections you prescribe."

"If you'll actually do them, then take these. One every four to six hours for five days. Don't skip. I know how busy you get," the doctor said with a knowing smile.

"My position demands my full attention at all times; you know this. And you know that my visits always brighten your day."

"A joke? Revan, I haven't heard a joke from you in ages."

"You're the only one I joke with," Revan replied. "You're the closest thing to a friend I have. It's why I brought you along."

"You sacrifice too much, you know that? I know that this is a burden you must bear, but you can't deny yourself the pleasures of life."

Revan gave him a dark smile. "I don't. My nights are never dull."

The Dark Lord of the Sith slid down from the medical table, rolled down the pant leg that had been up at his knee, donned the black over-robe to cover his shirtless torso and grabbed the package of kolto syringes from the only man who he really trusted, the doctor.

"Thank you," he said, sincerity almost tinting his always aloof tone, and the doctor knew that he meant the thanks.

"It's my job, and you're the one who got me here. It's the least I can do."

Revan pulled his hood up to obscure his face and exited the medical bay, quickly navigating the passages of **_The Blood Tide_** and reaching his spacious room. He glanced at the virgin bed and mused that it wouldn't stay innocent for long before sprawling his large body across its sheets and falling into a light but restful slumber.

* * *

The guard posted outside of the prisoner's room felt a chill crawl up his spine as he saw Darth Revan round the corner, his stride purposeful but...hiding a limp, he noticed. Straightening as much as he could, the guard waited for Revan to address him. The Dark Lord paused outside the door for a moment, eyeing the guard through his mask.

"Has she caused any trouble?" he asked.

"She broke a guard's nose yesterday when she came out of the kolto treatment because of the explosion, but other than that she hasn't been any trouble, sir."

"Interesting," Revan murmured, his own thoughts taking his attention for a moment. "Open the door."

"Yes sir." The guard turned around, inserted a small, round key-like device into a lock underneath the door panel, turned it twice to the right and once to the left, then entered the code to open the cell door.

Revan entered quietly, seeing that she was currently asleep, and settled himself at the foot of her bed, pulling up a chair and sitting down to wait. He wasn't forced to pass the time for long, as she awoke within fifteen minutes of his entrance. Her stunningly grey eyes slid open slowly, then flew wide as she saw him now standing at the foot of her bed. She sat up and backed away from him slightly, a dangerous expression affixed on her face.

"Don't touch me," she warned, her tone suggesting pain for one who did not heed her words.

Revan smiled beneath his mask. This was going to be interesting. "Now Bastila, why would I do that?" he asked, speaking in her presence for the first time.

Bastila was surprised at the almost melodic quality of his voice; whereas she had expected it to be harsh, guttural and raspy, it was deep, soothingly smooth and deceptively calm. She also noticed that it had a cold, distant air to it as well, just pronounced enough to be detectable.

Narrowing her eyes at his response, she gave him a deservedly suspicious look. "Could it be the possibility that you are the Dark Lord of the Sith, and are obviously lacking in moral restraint? I have yet to learn what you want with me," she snapped.

"While you are most likely correct in your assumption that I am lacking in moral restraint, it should be obvious what I want with you," he told her, amusement tingeing his words.

"If you think that I am going to simply surrender to your will and become your whore, you are sadly mistaken!"

Revan's laugh filtered through his mask and filled the silence; Bastila found the sound to be oddly comforting, but at the same time unnerving. "I had not planned on it, but now that you mention it, I might consider doing just that." His tone switched from detachedly amused to serious. "I saved you for your Battle Meditation, Bastila. With it, my conquest would be unstoppable and this war could finally end."

Bastila noticed he had subtly slipped in the fact that the war _could_ end if she aided him, obviously trying to appeal to her compassionate side. He had such a generic view of Jedi.

"I am not a spineless puppet, contrary to what you may think. I won't aid your bloodbath just to end this suffering you're putting the galaxy through, only so you can oppress the Republic once you've conquered it," she told him coldly.

"Well then, I fear I must be selfish," he replied, pulling out a metal collar and moving towards her on the bed. She tried to get up to move away, but he easily held her in place with the Force, slipping the metal ring around her neck and locking it, his gloved fingers deft even in their coverings. "If you won't use it for me, you won't use it for anyone else. That's a Force suppression collar; don't try to take it off, you'll only hurt yourself. I'll be visiting again soon, but I believe you'll be in a different room. This one is far too small...perhaps a room closer to my own is in order. Yes, I think that would be best." Revan stopped at the doorway, his hand hovering over the panel. "Think it over. I'm not asking for anything exorbitant." He opened the door, got halfway out and then turned back. "And keep in mind that it could be much, much worse for you. I figured we could start out on amicable terms, but if you insist on resisting..."

The young Jedi watched the Sith Lord go with a mixture of feelings. The creeping sensation of cold hands gripping her spine left as he did, but a nagging curiosity quickly took its place. Why was he being civil towards her? He could have killed her already, but he didn't; he even put her in a relatively comfortable cell and had her fed regularly and given a shower once daily. He was the Dark Lord of the Sith – he was evil personified in a man!

So why was he so damn intriguing?

The question nagged at Bastila till she couldn't take it anymore and forced herself to think of other things. Unfortunately, the first thing that came to mind was his voice. She hadn't expected him to have a normal voice by any means, but she had a preconceived opinion that it was probably going to be a harsh, undesirable thing for the ears. By no means had she prepared herself for the fact that he was going to have a voice that exuded raw power, masculinity and mystery. It was deeper than most, between a baritone and a bass, with an effortlessness – a silkiness – to it that was almost palpable, but had an aloofness that was disquieting.

Now she wondered what kind of face could go with a voice like that. If she was going to be realistic, she figured he would be of average attractiveness. Most men with impressive voices lacked the physical aspect of that grandeur. But if she were to romanticize the situation...

She shook her head to stop that thought. He was a Sith – the _Dark Lord_ of the Sith – and there was nothing desirable, pleasing or redeeming about the man, no matter what kind of Jedi he had been beforehand.

* * *

Revan was frustrated as he stabbed a kolto syringe into his calf and injected the healing agent into his body. He was perceptive and skilled at reading people, but trying to read Bastila was like trying to commit suicide without a weapon – it got him nowhere. He knew she would be stubborn the moment he walked in the door, but there was something else there underneath that stubbornness that he couldn't place a finger on. He exhaled heavily and tossed the syringe into the waste disposal in the refresher. He needed something to take his mind off of things, and he knew what would do just that. Allowing some semblance of a smile to light his face, Revan stepped out of the refresher and glanced at the bed, seeing a woman waiting there. He ignored her for the moment, removing himself of his boots and his shirt and depositing them next to and on a chair, respectively.

He turned to find the woman standing there, a seductive smile curving her lips. He did nothing, simply watched her; she placed her fingertips lightly on his chest and ran them down his torso at an agonizingly slow pace, finally reaching the hem of his pants and hooking her fingers inside the fabric, pulling him closer. Revan lifted her, her legs locking around his waist to hold herself there, his hands coming to rest on her buttocks. He carried her to the bed and deposited her, climbing atop her soon after.

No, Revan's nights were never dull - this was one reason why.

* * *

**(A few days later)**

Bastila tried to remove the Force suppression collar for the millionth time, grunting as the electric shock jolted painfully through her body, also for the millionth time. Giving up for the time being, she sunk into the mattress of her single bed only to jump up again as her cell door whooshed open. Three heavily armed guards entered, one stepping forward and addressing her.

"We have been instructed by Lord Revan to remove you from your cell and move you to a proper room. Follow me."

"A proper room?" she couldn't help but asking.

"Yes, a proper room. Though you are our prisoner, Lord Revan has instructed us to treat you as if you were a guest. You will have free roam of the ship; albeit free roam with an escort. You will be able to go where you wish, whenever you wish, within limits. Lord Revan's room is right next to yours. I have not been informed if you are allowed to enter his chambers," the guard explained as she was led down a maze of passageways. "If you're going to try, I wouldn't suggest trying that at night. Or without knocking."

"Why only at night?"

The head guard replied. "Lord Revan is sometimes occupied at night. You might witness something you aren't prepared for," was his somewhat cryptic but graciously informative response. "And he does not let most people into his room."

"Oh," she said quietly. That explained the knocking. That was something she most certainly hadn't needed to worry about at the Enclave.

"Your room is connected to his, however. Any more than that, I can't tell you. Here you are." The guard opened the door and Bastila noticed that it didn't have a lock. The guard must have been serious when he said that she had free roam of the ship. She entered the room to find that it was spacious and lavishly decorated, with couches, a table, thickly padded chairs and a double bed. The interior was not metal, but a painted wall, a golden tan in color, and the burgundy carpet was thick and soft, adding to the luxury of the room. A surge of anger flooded Bastila and she clenched her fists.

He was doing this to try and persuade her, wasn't he? He was trying to make her relax, to make her feel like he wasn't as bad as the Jedi said he was – trying to make her feel comfortable in her new surroundings so as to influence her mood and perceptions. Well it wasn't going to work! She wouldn't be persuaded by his little subtleties and seemingly innocent gifts.

"I hope you find what you need. If you _are_ in need of something, you are to inform the guard that is posted outside of your door at all times," the head guard said. The three Sith left her room, one staying behind to guard the door, and Bastila began to inspect the room more closely. Testing the couches and chairs, she found that they were impossibly soft and comfortable; she had her own personal refresher to use any time she wanted. There was a door in the eastern wall of her room that was locked from the other side and Bastila figured this was the door that connected to Revan's room. She reached out a hand to touch it, drawing back quickly as it slid open suddenly to reveal none other than the Sith Lord, no longer clad in his armor, but still masked and hooded.

"Do you ever take that infernal mask off?" she snapped irritably, putting as much space between herself and him as quickly as she could and thinking that she didn't really want him to take the covering away from his face.

"Only when necessary. I came to see if you were comfortable," he told her, not entering the room.

"Why am I in this room?"

"Did the guard not tell you?" His tone indicated that the guard would face severe punishment if this was the case, and Bastila hastily corrected him.

"He told me, but I want to hear it from you."

"Like the sound of my voice, hmm?" Revan asked humorously. She gave him such a glare that he decided it would be best to simply answer her question. He was in no mood to deal with her if she decided to become difficult. "You are my prisoner, and a Jedi at that. You are crucial to the Jedi Order's success in this war, and you are a woman. Because of all of that, especially the last fact, I feel compelled to treat you with deference. You showed incredible bravery on the command deck of my old flagship, and that is more than I can say for many Jedi I have faced so far. You have earned my respect, at least for the time being. Why do my motives concern you? I am nothing more than a brutal murderer, yes?"

Bastila felt fear mixed with violation as she realized he had just read her thoughts, and had likely done so with his earlier comment about his voice. "Stay out of my mind!"

"As you wish," was his unemotional reply.

"Why is my room next to yours? Surely you don't need me this close just to keep an eye on me," Bastila asked, her curt attitude still apparent in her words.

"It is more convenient for me this way. If I need to speak with you, all I have to do is simply open this door. And you may do the same, if you feel so compelled, though I highly doubt that fact. I will leave it unlocked from now on," Revan told her, watching the shock register on her face.

"How do I know you won't just come into my room at night and try to –?"

"I won't. You have my word."

"Your word means nothing to me," she shot back, though, oddly enough, she felt that he wouldn't break his promise.

"I see that I cannot convince you of anything at the moment, so I shall leave you to yourself for now. I have matters to attend to and will likely not be in my room for the rest of the day. The guard posted outside of your door has been instructed to aid you in any way possible. Talk to him if you need anything. I believe you two have met already. Good day, Bastila," Revan said in his ever-detached tone, giving her a small bow at the waist as he turned and left her, the door whooshing shut behind him. Bastila felt frustrated, even more so than she had felt throughout this entire experience. He was so enigmatic, so mysterious...it was irritating as hell and her curiosity wasn't letting her ignore it. There was no way she was going into his room, though. She wouldn't set foot in there unless she was forced to do so.

Her stomach suddenly grumbled loudly and Bastila sighed. She walked to the door that wasn't connected to Revan's room and opened it, peeking out and seeing that a guard was indeed outside her room.

"Yes?" he asked, trying very hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice, and Bastila recognized it as the voice of the man who had saved hers and Revan's lives aboard the flagship.

"I'm hungry," she told him bluntly. "Where or how do I get food?"

"The mess hall is this way," he said, relief apparent in his stance. "Follow me."

Bastila complied and walked along after the Sith, keeping close to him for more reasons than one. She felt acutely the critical and hateful stares of the Sith soldiers as they entered the mess hall but held her head high, refusing to let them intimidate her. She retrieved her food and sat at an unoccupied end of a table; her guard followed her with food of his own sitting across from her and removing his helmet, placing it on the bench next to him. Bastila saw that Revan had not provided her with a green recruit – the man was obviously in his early to middle forties with a short cropped head of light, pure grey hair and equally grey eyes. Bastila also noticed that the grey hair didn't seem to age him any, it simply looked as if it was the normal hair color he had been born with.

"Didn't think you'd end up in a position like this, did you princess?" the older man asked with obvious amusement.

"Don't call me 'princess', and no, I didn't think I would be in this position – I thought I'd be dead," she replied icily.

"I don't mean any harm by the name, so don't take offense princess. Besides, the name fits you perfectly."

"Are all of the guards as lacking in civility as you?"

"Lady, most of the guards are worse. I'm the nice one, and that's only because I'm allowed to be with you. If I was like this with the soldiers, I'd have been stabbed in the back long ago." Bastila must've looked shocked because he shrugged as if it was nothing. "Ways of the Sith, princess. It's a lot rougher than being with the Republic, but they aren't winning this war, now are they?"

"Why does Revan –"

"You would do well to address Lord Revan properly, lady," the Sith warned.

"Is there some sort of punishment if I don't?" Bastila asked insolently, masking embarrassment at being so brusquely corrected.

"You don't want it to happen to you," was the guard's reply. "Lord Revan doesn't tolerate disrepute. _At all_," he emphasized. "If you get caught by him, there's no telling what he might do to you. It's much safer to simply abide by the rules around here, including that one."

"All right then, do you know why _Lord_ Revan is keeping me here? So close to him, I mean."

The grey haired man shrugged. "No clue. It's not my problem. My opinion though?" He paused, and Bastila nodded, indicating she wanted his view. "He likes you."

She felt her face flush. "_What?_" she hissed. "I'm here because of my abilities in the Force, not because Rev – Lord Revan wants me to join his little harem!"

The Sith eyed her. "Lord Revan doesn't have a harem, princess. But I didn't mean it exactly like that. I meant that he's intrigued by you. You're not as...Jedi-like as the other Jedi he's dealt with that I've seen. And you're stubborn. He's probably amused by you as well."

Bastila rolled her eyes. "Lovely. I've always wanted to be a source of amusement for the Dark Lord of the Sith."

"As long as he isn't torturing or killing you, be thankful. Lord Revan can have a volatile temper if so aroused. I've seen it – it's not pretty, not pretty in the least," the man warned.

"What did he do?" she asked, her curiosity surfacing.

"Do you think a man can disembowel another through the Force? Lord Revan can. Ripped the poor bastard's guts right out and flung them across the room while the guy watched. He didn't die immediately, and Lord Revan just left him there. I – are you done?"

Bastila glanced down at her half-eaten food and realized that her appetite had disappeared. "Yes. I'm not hungry all of a sudden."

"I'm done. Let's get you back to your room. Besides, that guy over there is eyeing you, and I don't want to have to kill anyone today."

Bastila followed the guard, threw away her food and then proceeded to walk alongside him on the way back to her room, making small talk with him. By the time they got back to her quarters, she had learned that his name was Sante Wulfe and that he was born on her home planet of Talravin.

"You never answered my question. Why did you come back for us? You could've just let me die along with Revan, but you didn't. Why?" Bastila asked, halfway through her door.

"I'm...still not sure. Maybe the thought of serving under Malak didn't have any appeal. Maybe I felt sorry for you, and for Revan. He's not as horrible as you Jedi paint him to be. Cruel to a point, yes, but he's no monster. What's done is done – you did the same for Revan with your Force powers, didn't you? Kept him alive? We're even."

Sante turned his back to her, leaning against the wall and not glancing back. Bastila was satisfied with his response, knowing that even getting that much of a true answer out of him was dangerous – for him, at least. Any show of weakness was not tolerated in the Sith, and Bastila also knew that his show of care on that command deck, while brave and deserving of a medal under Republic standards, was nothing more than limitation to the Sith. She quickly stripped herself of all clothing and entered the refresher, letting hot water fill the tub. She slipped into the water, feeling the tension leave her tired and aching muscles. Bastila washed herself languidly, deciding that if Revan was going to provide her with the means to luxury, she would take full advantage of them. The fragrances he had left in the bathroom were wonderful, as were the towels. She grabbed one when she was finished with her bath and wrapped it around herself, opening the door. Bastila let out a frightened yell as she found herself face to face with Sante, his grey eyes just as wide as her own.

"S-sorry..." he spluttered, turning slightly red. "I didn't hear anything from your room for a long time, and I was worried that you might've...tried to...kill yourself. It's happened before on my watch, and I don't want it to happen again."

"Th-thank you for the concern," Bastila replied, feeling her legs going weak as the adrenaline left her system, "but I'm quite all right."

Sante nodded and left quickly, grabbing his helmet as he exited. Bastila dressed immediately, not wishing to be caught half-naked again. She was about to slip under the covers of the double bed when she heard a noise coming from Revan's room. Her curiosity taking hold again, she quietly crept to the wall adjacent to his and pressed her ear to it, holding her breath and straining to hear. Though she had no reason to be, a pang of jealousy ran through her as the sound came again – this time easily definable as a woman's moan of pleasure. The woman moaned again, calling out Revan's name breathlessly and Bastila immediately noticed that there was an absence of other noise – namely, Revan's voice. She was under the impression that during lovemaking, both the man and the woman were vocal. Backing away from the wall in disgust and a small amount of envy that she refused to admit, Bastila left this confusing discovery rest for the moment and returned to her own lonely bed, climbing beneath the sheets and sinking into the soft and comfortable mattress. She tossed and turned for a long while, trying to ignore the sounds coming from the other room, but to no avail. When they reached a crescendo and at last ceased, she swiftly succumbed to the call of slumber, darkness cradling her safely.

* * *

Revan stood under the throbbing pulse of the hot water from the showerhead, waiting for the woman in his room to leave. He never let them stay overnight; companionship was not what he wanted from them. In truth, he didn't want them at all, but they insisted on offering themselves to him – who was he to refuse? It was an annoyance sometimes, but the pleasure was worth it; it only got bad when they tried to become clingy. A relationship with one of them was the farthest thing from his mind. He would have been just as content with the situation if they were to leave him alone, but politics demanded differently. It amused him to no end that they truly believed that by sleeping with him, they would be promoted, or receive deferential treatment.

Stepping out from the shower, he toweled off and pulled a loose pair of grey sweats on, not bothering with an undergarment. He rarely ever did. A shirt was lucky to ever see his skin if he was preparing for bed and an undergarment had little better luck. Rubbing his head vigorously and drying his hair, he tossed the towel over its holding rack and exited the refresher, seeing that his room was mercifully unoccupied. His skin was still damp and his room was cold, so he did pull a robe over his large frame before sinking into the seat in front of his computer screen. Switching the screen on, he connected to his ship's computer systems and ran through his nightly checks of the fleet, seeing how many ships and men they had lost that day, how many Jedi they had captured or killed, what battles they had won or lost, and what locations they had gained or relinquished. He sighed heavily as the numbers told him today had not been a good day for his army and switched the computer screen off.

The thought of his prisoner entered his mind and he rolled his eyes. She had invaded his thoughts many times as of late, even making an appearance earlier in the evening while he had been with company. This had intrigued him but he accounted it to nothing more than the fact that she was very attractive, even by the standard of women he had the 'pleasure' of being with some nights. He also knew that she was utterly innocent, something that he envied to no small extent. He despised the burden with which he was bound with a good part of his being, but had simply come to accept that he was a pawn in a much larger scheme – much larger than even he could comprehend. Still, his innocence had been forcibly taken from him, and he resented that; he didn't want to do the same to Bastila, necessarily, but he feared that it would be inevitable due to the fact they were in a war, and he wanted her Battle Mediation.

Just how far he would go to get it remained to be seen, even in his own mind.

Suddenly overcome with the urge to see her, Revan drew the hood of his robe around his face and approached the door that connected their rooms. He hesitated as his hand hovered over the panel, thinking that she would probably be asleep. Revan snorted and dropped his hand, thinking that it was stupid he needed to see her. He could see her in the morning. Hell, he could see her any time he wanted – and that was why he wanted to see her now. He couldn't deny that there was something fascinating about her that drew him back, and Revan feared that he was somehow beginning, even over the course of these few days, to develop feelings for her.

_You stopped feeling that way about anyone a long time ago, idiot_, a voice in his head told him, and he agreed, attributing the pull that she had on him already to lust. That seemed to be the only feeling he had when it came to women any more. Lust, and her military importance. Her Battle Meditation was the reason he had decided to treat her like a guest, and not lock her in a holding cell like the rest of his prisoners. Punching the 'open' button on the door panel, Revan slipped quietly into her room and was enveloped in blackness; his eyes adjusted with an inhuman speed but he didn't notice – he never had.

Bastila was lying in bed, half-covered by the sheets of the large double bed he had provided for her, her face twisted into a grimace and her aura exuding distress. He walked soundlessly to the side of the bed she was closest to and peered down at her, studying her intently, taking in her elegant neck, regal jaw, full lips and straight, thin nose, noticing that her pajamas accentuated her figure, even in their relatively loose state. Her dark, slender eyebrows were furrowed over her eyelids that were screwed shut, depriving him of the view of her beautifully effervescent grey eyes. Reaching down against his will, his hand tenderly brushed a stray strand of her dark brunette hair away from her cheek, his fingertips brushing lightly against the smooth skin there.

She shot up faster than he would have thought possible, grabbing his hand and twisting painfully. He resisted just enough so that she wouldn't break anything but also enough so that she knew that he wasn't going to fight back.

"Whoever the hell you are –" Bastila began before sensing who was in front of her. "Darth Revan," she said coldly. "May I ask what you are doing in my room at the dead of night? I thought I had your word that you wouldn't try to ravage me."

Revan smiled at her feisty attitude, even when in a situation that placed her at a major disadvantage. "I was simply checking on you," he answered as honestly as he could. "Raping you has never crossed my mind." _That was a lie_, he admitted to himself. But since when had lying bothered him?

"Liar," she confronted him, the word out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She cringed, not knowing what punishment that might earn her. In the dark, she could see his broad shoulders shrug.

"So you've caught me. Are you surprised? I'm a Sith. I'm _supposed_ to be a liar, according to you Jedi. I try not to make it a habit, however."

She suddenly realized that his voice sounded different. "Do you have your mask off?" she asked, almost hesitantly.

"Yes. I just got out of the shower. I don't bathe with it on, if you must know," he replied.

"I'm sure you were trying to wash her perfume off," Bastila snapped, a mixture of unexplainable emotions flaring.

"You heard that?" he asked, sounding genuinely repentant. "I didn't realize she was that loud. I apologize."

"_You_ are telling me that you're sorry?" she said incredulously.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be? I obviously created a source of annoyance for you tonight. I didn't mean to do such a thing, and for that, I am sorry. Are you expecting me to simply tell you to shut the hell up and deal with whatever unholy orgy I'm conducting in my chambers?" Revan asked, a laugh discernable under his breath.

Bastila's eyes had now adjusted enough for her to see the outline of his body, and to barely make out some of his face. Still, it didn't give her any clue as to what he looked like, as all she could see were shadows. Revan misread her silence as anger, and backed away from her bed.

"I see that I've angered you yet again. I'll let you return to whatever nightmare you were having before I woke you. Good, ah..." he glanced at the clock that screamed the time in red numbers – 00:33 in military time, thirty-three minutes past midnight. "Good morning."

His imposing figure glided silently away from her bed and out of her room, leaving her to her own thoughts once again.

Revan cursed to himself as he flung the robe away from his body, not caring where it landed. What the hell was wrong with him? He was acting like an idiot! Feeling sorry for her, apologizing, listening to something other than his logic...

He growled as he slid beneath his sheets, noticing at once that they were clean and thanking the Force that he had a droid for things like that. He hated sleeping in soiled bed linens. Revan stayed awake for a long time, contemplating many things and steadily descending into a fouler mood as the hours passed. He finally glanced at his own clock and saw that it was 6:30 in the morning; punching out a furious breath he gave up on sleep and threw his sheets aside, setting his feet on his carpeted floor. He rummaged through his dresser and grabbed a pair of brief boxers, sliding them on over his body and following those with a pair of training pants similar to those of a Jedi's, but black in color. He donned a sleeveless shirt, also black, with a hood attached with a cloth for face cover – a Dark Jedi flair. He covered his mouth and nose with the cloth, pulling up the hood and clasping around his ears, the trick that kept it from falling away with forceful movement.

For the first time in a long while, Revan wondered exactly why he always wore a mask, even when around the ships. Why did it matter if his subordinates saw his face or not? Chalking it up to being slightly paranoid, Revan grabbed a hand towel from his closet and exited his room, his destination – the training room. He enjoyed training in the early morning hours to get his blood going. He couldn't say that he did it because there weren't many people there, because there were _always_ people in there since they all had different shifts, but the morning seemed to have less than usual. As soon as he entered, he headed for the weights area, stretching liberally before lifting, however, the entire workout taking him about an hour and a half.

He took a five minute break for water and rest, then was at it again, this time attacking the punching bag. He worked that for a solid ten minutes before calling it a morning and grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his eyes from his most recent exercise. Revan felt rather than saw her walk in and noticed with annoyance that all of the men in the room paused and stared. Glancing behind him just to make sure that it really was her, he let out a harsh command.

"Get the hell back to your workouts and stop staring like a bunch of prick-headed buffoons!" he bellowed. "Show her the same respect you would show me!"

"And you are?" a Sith asked boorishly, not recognizing the Dark Lord. Revan flung him across the room and into a rack of weights, effectively silencing the man and letting everyone else in the room know that he was in a dangerous mood.

"Anyone else want to test my patience?" Revan growled and the room was silent. "Take him to med bay," he ordered two guards, jerking his head in the direction of the semi-unconscious man he had just hurled through the air. He walked up to the guard that was with Bastila, the man he knew to be Sante Wulfe, and laid a large hand on his armored shoulder. "If any of them give her any trouble, either shoot them or throw them out the airlock. I don't care who they are, just do it. Everyone is replaceable, even me," Revan told him. He slid his gaze to Bastila and saw at once why everyone was staring – she was wearing the same tight body suit he had originally seen her in. "Do you realize what you're doing to your Jedi friends when you wear that?" he asked, staring into her grey eyes.

She struggled to keep her wits about her as his eyes met hers. They were an arcane and intoxicating color of green set behind dark lashes and below equally dark brows, so intense that she wanted to look away, even though Bastila found that she couldn't. He grinned beneath the dark cloth that covered most of his face.

"Hm. Didn't think so. My men are even less immune, so I would be careful what you wear, do and say around them. I don't trust all of them – you shouldn't either."


	2. Chapter 2

Yes, I know that I'm messing with the war timeline a bit. We'll just pretend that Revan captured Bastila BEFORE the Battle of Telos IV, okay? I'm making the Battle of Telos IV occur later than it really did, basically. The war technically doesn't start until the Battle of Telos IV, so just keep that in mind. The Jedi Masters saw that war was imminent, and sent the Jedi strike team preemptively to try and avoid the conflict altogether by capturing Revan.

Um, yeah. Not much else. Hope you enjoy.

Just for craps and giggles: the song to think of for this entire story is **Temptation, by Godsmack**. It's what I got the title from, and the song kicks ass. If you want to hear it, e-mail me at lp62590 (at) yahoo (dot) com, and I'll give you the song. Or I'll try...

I hafta write the e-mail address like that or else it won't show up. It's a normal address, so use symbols for the parentheses, m'kay?

(There, Ephemeral Mist. I fixed it. I hope that's what you wanted...I tried to go with your suggested dialogue, so I hope it turned out right. o.O)

**Oh, yeah. Um, Cpt. Ritter brought this up actually, and I'm pretty much a tard for not thinking of it. Coruscant has been changed to Adarlon. Yes, that's a planet, but it's on the Outer Rim, which is much safer for a Sith cruiser to suddenly drop in on, no? So they're on Adarlon, an entertainment-based planet. Belrand is one of the main cities.**

* * *

One week (five days) later

Darth Revan's masked face appeared to Malak on the large view screen, impassive and cold as always.

"You requested contact with me, Malak?" Revan's voice asked through the speakers.

"Yes, master. We will be arriving at Telos IV in a day. Your orders?" the apprentice asked, knowing that Revan had specific plans for the planet.

"Admiral Saul Karath is to head the fleet, subordinate only to you. Make sure that is clear to the entire fleet. I have heard news of noncompliance lately, and I intend for it to halt immediately. If anyone so much as steps out of line once, I give you full power to reprimand them as you see fit. Just don't kill all of them – make an example, not a slaughter. Now, as for Telos IV," Revan paused, thinking. "Admiral Karath is to demand their surrender. If they do not comply, order him to bomb the planet into glass. Understood? I want the Jedi to know that there will be no place they can hide from me in this galaxy, no place they can run to for refuge," the Dark Lord said, a malicious venom in his words. "This war has not yet begun, Malak. Not by my standards. The Jedi have only two choices: join me, or die. If you capture any, keep them alive until I can personally meet with them, is that clear? I doubt you will encounter any over Telos, but be prepared. They may send an ambush or confront you. Do not disappoint me."

Darth Revan shut off his end of the transmission and Malak was left with a blank screen and clear orders. The apprentice to the Dark Lord made his way to the bridge of the ship, **_Leviathan_**, and found Admiral Saul Karath there.

"Lord Malak," Karath said with a small bow as Malak approached.

"Admiral," Malak replied, making the greeting mutual. "I have just spoken with Lord Revan, and he has ordered that you are to...'reinforce' the fact that you are the highest in command of this fleet, second only to myself. If anyone is out of line, turn them over to me, Admiral. I will deal with their insolence in the manner that I see fit."

"Yes sir. I'm sure you'll be seeing someone soon," Karath replied, eyeing a man from across the room. "And his orders for Telos?" he asked, switching to the more pertinent subject.

"You are to demand the planet's surrender. If they refuse, we will bombard them until they are a lifeless and barren rock. Do not commence the bombing until I give the order, clear?" Malak told him.

"Affirmative. Demand surrender, receive response, wait for further orders. Standard procedure, Lord Malak. I assure you we will have no difficulties."

"Good. Keep an eye out for Republic ambushes. I do not want to be caught by surprise. Good day, Admiral."

"Sir," Admiral Karath saluted, turning back to his ship's crew. Malak left the bridge of the ship to gather a squadron of recon fighters to send out and probe the space around Telos. Both he and Revan knew that the Jedi were weary of warring, and the last time they had encountered the Jedi, Revan had nearly been killed. Malak knew that it wasn't the hand of the Jedi that had dealt the blow, but the fact that Jedi were present made it all the more demeaning that they had almost lost that battle. His first reaction upon hearing that Revan was in critical condition was worry. Revan, despite being his master, was also his friend – or as much of a friend as he was going to have as a Sith – and he valued his friend's life. But Malak knew that a small part of him had seen Revan's demise as an opportunity for himself, an opportunity to become the Dark Lord of the Sith. So, as the days dragged on, Malak found himself vacillating between wanting his master to live and wishing for his death. Malak was not stupid – he knew that at the current time, he was not strong enough to kill Revan. It would be a long while before he would obtain that power. He wasn't above using subterfuge to get what he wanted, but felt that the empire they were building was still too fragile to change hands of leadership. He would let Revan lay the groundwork and take the mantle for himself when he perceived that Revan was no longer fit to be Dark Lord of the Sith. Until then, he would bide his time and gather his strength.

* * *

The current Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Revan, was delivering a package. The package had arrived in a relatively thin box, plainly wrapped in brown paper and fitted with enough information only to tell the location to which it was to be delivered. Other than that, what was in the box itself was a mystery to all but the man who had ordered it and the company who had provided it. Said man was striding purposefully down the corridor with the box in gloved hand, pausing only for the door to his destination to slide open and admit him in.

"There is such a thing a knocking," Bastila told him irritably. "It usually implies good manners."

"You'll have a chance to see just how good my manners are soon," Revan replied, handing her the box. "Open it," he urged, the aloofness fading from his voice for a nanosecond.

Bastila eyed him warily, taking the box and setting on her bed. She removed the brown paper and was met with a white, rectangular box. Pulling the lid off, she dropped it out of surprise when she saw what was inside.

"What is this for?"

Revan was smiling beneath his mask. "For tomorrow tonight. We'll be arriving in Adarlonian space within the next three hours. I had made reservations at a wonderful restaurant there a long time back, originally just for myself, but due to recent events I feel that might be changing. Unfortunately for myself, you and I still have much to discuss; it seems that we will simply have to find a way around our little impasse over a meal. While the circumstances are not to my liking - such is life - it is a minor inconvenience and I certainly would not object to the company."

She stared at him disbelievingly. "You're taking me to dinner?"

"Yes. Is that going to conflict with your busy schedule?"

Bastila glared at him, hearing the taunt in his voice. "Thank you, but I would rather stay here," she said icily. She felt his hand suddenly grip her wrist with an incredible strength, and she turned back to look at him.

"I'm not asking," he said slowly and deliberately, letting her know that she had no choice in the matter.

"Then I don't have to tell you no," Bastila replied, trying to wrench her wrist from his grip. He yanked her closer and she could feel the restraint he was using to keep himself from losing his temper.

"It would be a good time to inform you that I don't handle rejection very well," he growled. "It would be in your best interest to accept."

She glared murderously at him for a long time, trying to discern anything behind that damned mask of his but finding nothing. His grip on her wrist increased and the pain became almost too much to bear as he twisted at an angle that her wrist didn't want to go. Darth Revan moved closer, twisting her wrist just a little bit more and Bastila realized that he wasn't going to free her, and that he could have very easily snapped her wrist by now. Opening herself to the Force as much as she was able, she could feel the anger emanating from him and was shocked at its potency. Bastila shoved the fear that she felt at this down and swallowed, acquiescing. "What time should I be ready by?" she asked quietly.

"Six-thirty," Revan told her, releasing her wrist but keeping his gloved fingers on her hand. She felt a small pulse of the Force flow into her and realized with no small amount of surprise that he was healing her. "Don't look so sullen. Be glad I'm letting you off this ship alive. Most of my prisoners never see the light of the stars again," he finished curtly, exiting her room and leaving her alone with the 'gift' he had delivered. Bastila stared down at the black dress and lifted it out of the box, seeing that an entire outfit was provided underneath with shoes, makeup, jewelry and other accessories. She sank down on to the bed as a wave of despair filled her and she wondered how she was ever going to get out of this alive. She felt a dark irony at the fact that she would be spending the night of her twenty-first birthday dining with the Dark Lord of the Sith. He didn't know or care that she was far too young to be caught up in a war like this, she figured, but what had she expected? For him to give her the day off tomorrow because of a birthday he didn't know existed?

Bastila groaned and slipped out of the clothes she was wearing, figuring it would be safest to try the black dress on now just in case it didn't fit. When she stepped in front of the mirror inside of the refresher, she rolled her eyes and felt no astonishment upon seeing that not only did the dress fit, but it clung to her in just the right places, accentuating her figure perfectly.

She muttered to herself, wondering how he knew exactly what size she was and peeled off the dress, changing back into her regular Jedi robes. It bothered her that she was so afraid of him, someone who was just a man and nothing more. But yet he was so much more – a mystery, a symbol to fear, a challenge, the epitome of conflicting natures merged into one man. And most of all, he was fascinating for the simple fact that Bastila knew next to nothing about him, even in his days as a Jedi. He was a complete enigma to her, and she was determined to crack him. She wasn't about to let herself be afraid of something she didn't understand.

Revan meanwhile, back in his own room, was seething at her impertinence. There was just something about her stubbornness that angered him to no end, getting under his skin like a white-hot needle. He stopped and looked at the situation objectively, comparing her to all of the other women he knew. Once he did that it was easy to see why she was able to piss him off so effortlessly – no other woman had ever had the courage to turn him down. But he was still frustrated, as he was quite adept at handling rejection, contrary to his earlier statement. He assumed that it was the condescending attitude with which she always regarded him that singed him so.

_I can strip you of that pride easily, Bastila,_ he thought to himself. _We shall see how pompous you are when you've been forced to your knees and shamed._

* * *

"This is Admiral Saul Karath, commander of the Sith fleet I have no doubt you've noticed orbiting your planet. Our terms our simple: surrender completely and we will spare your people."

"_And if we don't?"_ the response came back over the speakers.

Karath smiled. "Then there won't be a planet left to defend."

There was no pause. _"If you think that we're going to roll over and surrender to you bastards, you've got another thing coming!"_

Karath looked at his superior officer, Malak, awaiting his orders. Malak stared at the planet below for a long while before a cruel glint lighted his eyes and Karath speculated that if Malak had still retained a mouth, it would have been twisted into a malicious grin.

"Blow them to hell," Malak ordered in his gruff mechanical voice. Karath nodded and raised his right arm, holding it high above his head. This was always his signal before a major bombardment, and all of his men readied themselves, prepping the turboblaster batteries and quad laser cannons for firing.

"Have we obtained a solution?" Karath asked, meaning loosely, were they ready to fire?

"Yes sir!"

"Fire!" the Admiral boomed, dropping his arm like a hammer. The ship shook as the quad laser cannons and turboblasters from the entire fleet began to let loose with volley after volley of withering laser fire, reducing the planet to a mass of rubble and death within minutes.

Malak watched the carnage with a cold air of satisfaction. Revan would be most pleased at this outcome.

* * *

Revan raked the razor over his face one last time, splashing cool water on his skin and inspecting his work soon after. Satisfied with the state of his facial fur, he ran his hands through his dark hair – his makeshift comb – and dried his face off with a hand towel. Leaving the refresher, he proceeded to dress himself and conceal his lightsaber inside the long, trench-coat like jacket he was wearing. Checking the watch he had fitted himself with, Revan saw that it was six – twenty-five; he knocked on the door that connected his room to Bastila's.

"When you're ready, tell Sante. He will escort you to our transportation."

She didn't respond to him but he knew that she had heard, so he exited his room and his ship, taking a personal shuttle down to the hangar that was specified for his arrival, and walking across the expansive docking platform to the limousine transport speeder he had arranged for. He slid inside of the dark colored vehicle with graceful ease and settling himself down in a dimly lit corner of the interior. At exactly six – thirty, the door of the limousine opened again and Bastila slid inside, looking uncomfortable but relieved. Revan smiled from his obscured corner of the limo – the dress was a perfect fit for her, and as he had expected, she looked absolutely stunning.

"How are we supposed to do this without drawing attention to ourselves?" she asked.

"I'm not exactly an easily recognizable man, Bastila," Revan replied.

With his eerie ability to see in the dark, he saw her eyes register what he meant from across the limo. "You're not wearing your mask."

"No, I'm not. That would be entirely rude of me. Besides, even I wish to act like a normal human being every once in a while."

"Should I wait until after I've seen your face to eat, or is it safe to put something in my stomach without having to worry it might come back up?" Bastila inquired coolly.

Revan gave a short, soft laugh that Bastila found soothing; she could barely make out the outlines of his face in the dim light of the limo, and she couldn't use the Force to penetrate the darkness, as the Force suppression collar was still secured firmly around her neck. "I should hope that my appearance isn't conducive to vomiting, although I'm quite sure that I at least appear somewhat normal, as I have never been recoiled from by a woman before," he replied.

"There is a first time for everything," she shot back.

"Hmm," he said, pausing. "Yes...there is." Revan's tone was odd, and the sound of it unnerved her. He wasn't aware of it as he spoke though, being too lost in his own thoughts to really notice the change. Revan found that for the first time in a long while, as he looked at Bastila, he saw more than just an object for his pleasure. Perhaps it was the fact that he was being forced to deal with her a person in order to try and mold her to his will, but whatever the reason, he found the feeling he was experiencing to be relatively new. It wasn't displeasing by any means, just...unfamiliar.

"It's impolite to stare, you know," Bastila told him, feeling the weight of his gaze and snapping him out of his little reverie.

"I would much rather stare at you than the glittering skyscrapers of Belrand, as illogical as that may seem," he answered, seeing her face flush from his spot in the limo.

"It's your fault I look like this," she muttered.

"On the contrary, I believe the fault lies with you. I was not the one who deigned to bestow such a striking beauty as you possess. It's a shame you are a Jedi – you would have no trouble finding a husband in this universe willing to wait on you hand and foot," Revan mused, feeling another odd emotion flare up. He was almost ready to compare it to jealousy but banished that thought from his mind as quickly as it came.

"I do not find enjoyment in the thought of a servile man," Bastila rejoined, determined not to let him embarrass her any more.

"Well, what kind of men _do_ you like? I am not privy to such knowledge," Revan said, leaving to option up to her if she wanted to answer. He figured she would, as he already knew that anything she perceived as a challenge she couldn't resist.

"Tell me, what does the word 'manly' conjure up in that twisted mind of yours?"

"Am I supposed to be thinking as a woman?"

"Not necessarily," Bastila answered.

"All right, the picture that comes to mind is a solid man, muscular, able to wield a weapon comfortably, able to protect those he deems important to himself, relatively tall...is that good enough?" Revan ventured, feeling utterly stupid as he did so.

"You seem to be on the right track to what kind of man I find attractive. All of what you have said – now add handsome, a sense of humor, a civil personality, and a thoughtful side. To be general," Bastila finished.

"That was a general description? I would hate to see what a detailed list would look like. Maybe it _is_ a good thing you're a Jedi princess," Revan retorted.

"I am _not_ a princess!" she popped angrily.

"I beg to differ, but if you insist..."

"Are we there yet?" she asked with a sudden weariness.

Revan peered out of his window. "Yes, actually. I'll be getting out first."

Bastila noticed that he sounded a bit on edge and wondered if there was a threat to their safety. Hoping that wasn't the case, she sat back and waited as the limo stopped and Revan got out; Bastila caught the briefest glimpse of the left side of his face as he passed, but she had no better idea of what he looked like from it. A hand was extended to her and she took it, using the grip to help extricate herself from the inside of the vehicle and step out into the Belrand night air, breathing in deeply and savoring the taste of the natural air. Revan's imposing figure was already walking ahead of her and she hurried to catch up, taking in everything about him that she could from behind. His hair was very dark, almost black with a shine that suggested softness, and contrary to lying flat like normal hair, seemed to stand up of its own accord, negating the need for gel and giving it an almost messy look that begged to be touched. Revan had broad, powerful shoulders; moving southerly, and from what she had already experienced, large, strong hands that were surprisingly deft and suggestive of gentleness if the situation so demanded. He walked with an air of confidence and his very demeanor exuded authority and control.

Bastila saw Revan being led immediately to a table upon entering the restaurant and she followed, watching Revan sit down and the waiter look at her with surprise.

"I was told it was for a party of one," he said hesitantly.

Revan's face showed no malice towards the man for his question. "I changed my mind at the last minute. I hope that isn't a problem?"

"Well, no sir. I just wanted to make sure."

"She's with me. I promise she won't cause any trouble."

The waiter smiled nervously at Revan's joking attitude and hurried away quickly. Bastila sat down as he left and found her eyes drawn at once to Revan's face, her curiosity to know what he looked like overriding her subtlety. His intoxicatingly green eyes met her grey ones and he smiled knowingly.

"You don't look as if you have the urge to vomit. I'm so very relieved," he said.

"The feeling is mutual."

"The menu here is quite extensive, so don't worry about taking a long time to decide what you want to eat. For wine, I recommend the Crème D'Infame, as I have happened to procure a bottle – two actually. I would dare to guess that such an occasion as your birthday would warrant opening one?" Revan asked, seeing her face register a mixture of shock and the barest hint of delight. Suspicion clouded her lovely face as well, darkening it.

"How did you know it was my birthday?" Bastila asked warily.

"Since capturing you, I've done some digging and managed to come up with the basics: where you were born, on what day – though interestingly enough I found no year – to whom, and so on."

"Is this why you 'invited' me to dinner?"

"Would you like me to say yes? Does it matter? We're here now, and I would much prefer to celebrate your birthday than talk about ulterior motives. What year are you reaching today?" Revan inquired.

"Twenty-first," she said with as much confidence as she could muster, knowing that her age was a young one.

His green eyes widened. "Only twenty-one?" He looked truly shocked. "I had expected you to be older by at least a few years. You conduct yourself very maturely for just turning twenty-one."

"Is that so? And how old are you?" Bastila asked, slightly chagrined at the fact he knew she was barely out of her teens.

"I am four years more war hardened, battle scarred and world weary than you. The young side of twenty-five," he answered.

"I expected _you_ to be older. Then again, I'm not surprised. After all, you were the youngest Padawan ever to pass your tests for Knighthood."

Revan's face developed a faraway look. "Ah, yes. I remember that like it was yesterday. Almost seven years ago..." he shook his head. "Time finds a way to slip by you. I was a Jedi then, and a good one. The Mandalorian Wars were just beginning, I had no presumption to go join the Republic, and I still believed in the Code. Things have definitely changed."

The waiter brought the bottle of wine as he had been instructed to beforehand, and left it in a bucket filled with ice. Revan retrieved the bottle from the ice, uncorked it, and poured the wine into his own glass, asking for hers and filling it liberally before handing it back. He sipped the wine and fell silent for a while, allowing Bastila time to fully take in his appearance without having to worry about conversation.

She could tell he was tall even though they were seated, and he had a dark handsomeness that was very nearly overpowering. From the front, she saw that his hair was of normal length, if not long by military principles. She already knew what his eyes looked like, but found her gaze on them again against her will. Their green depths spoke volumes – volumes that were locked safely away behind a wall that was easily visible to all that dared to look into his eyes. His skin was pale by normal standards, but nothing close to the deathly pallor that she had expected of him as a Sith Lord. Bastila noticed that a thin, inch-long scar ran down from the outside of his right eye to his cheek, but that was the only mark that marred his face. He had a straight nose, strong and suggestive of regality, but wholly proportionate to the rest of his features. His lips were thin but full; his mouth set in the beginnings of a frown, but as if it was merely hinting at the thought. His jaw was powerfully set, giving first glimpse of the resiliency and toughness that was imbued within his soul; a thin line of dark hair ran down from the middle of his lower lip, melting into a neatly trimmed goatee covering his chin that in turn, curved up to stop at the outer edges of his mouth.

A mouth, she noticed, that was smirking at her.

"I am thinking that I'm either just ugly enough to cause you to stare but not vomit, or you find me attractive," Revan spoke with amusement.

"I expected you to look...different, I suppose," Bastila replied neutrally. His gaze flicked down from her face and she had a horrified moment of thought that he was staring at her chest.

"I'm sure you're quite tired of that Force suppression collar, aren't you?" he asked.

"I don't believe I will be forgetting the feeling of being shocked any time soon," she answered smartly.

"I would take it off, but I don't trust you yet."

"Once again, the feeling is mutual," Bastila replied.

He eyed her glass and frowned. "Do you not like alcohol?"

Bastila looked at her glass as well. "No, I just don't drink it often. Jedi aren't known for their wild parties."

"I wouldn't recommend more than one glass then, as I take it your body isn't used to processing large quantities of hard liquor. Ah, here come the menus."

The waiter handed them both menus and filled the second set of glasses on the table with water, hurrying away again once he was finished. After a little while, Revan spoke up again.

"The Cracknel is very good here, if you want an appetizer. Would you like that?"

Bastila looked at him, unsure of what to say. He raised a single, dark eyebrow at her, waiting for her response. "I don't know," she finally offered. "That depends on how much food they serve with the meal."

"They give generous portions here. If you're worried about not being able to finish dinner, I wouldn't get the appetizer."

"That's fine."

Revan chuckled and it was Bastila's turn to raise a thin, dark eyebrow at him. "You need to relax," he told her. "I'm not the Dark Lord of the Sith right now, and you're not my prisoner. Just enjoy the night."

"That might be a little difficult for me to do, seeing as I have this collar around my neck to constantly remind me that you _are_ the Dark Lord of the Sith, and that I _am_ your prisoner," Bastila answered icily.

"Good try, but I'm not taking it off," he told her, taking another sip of wine. Abruptly, he changed the subject back to food. "Do you know what you want?"

Bastila glanced down at the immense menu and felt the frustration at the entire absurdity of the situation mounting. "No," she snapped.

"Look," he suddenly growled, leaning across the table and glaring at her, "I didn't have to take you to dinner. I don't even have to keep you _alive_. Your precious Jedi order thinks you're dead, and I can make that assumption a concrete fact. I have been more than accommodating for you – you might want to think about returning the favor."

"I have thought about it, but you don't deserve my civility," Bastila said, meeting his hard gaze evenly.

The left side of his mouth curled upward into a snarl and he got up from his seat, grabbing her by her upper arm and dragging her from her chair. He marched her across the restaurant and into a relatively private hall just outside of the refreshers, shoving her back roughly against the wall as soon as they were out of sight. Revan's large hands were gripping her arms and holding her against the wall, an inconspicuous position if anyone was to walk by. He leaned very close to her, placing his mouth next to her ear; Bastila caught the smell of his cologne, cursing herself for finding it a scent that made her feel weak.

"You are testing my patience far too much, Bastila," Revan hissed tightly, his warm breath washing over her ear and making her shiver. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, you mean nothing to me. _Nothing_. I could have women just as beautiful as you any time I wanted. You are just another Jedi to me, and I don't give a _damn_ if you _are_ the only Jedi capable of using Battle Meditation! Maybe you don't realize this, but you only have two options Bastila. You can either help me, or you can die. It's your choice." He paused, waiting for her answer. Bastila felt him stiffen slowly, and he whispered again into her ear. "That man is watching us, and he's a security officer. Are you any good at acting?"

"Very. But why should I? I could just tell him that you've kidnapped me and are holding me against my will," she replied, sounding much braver than she felt. While she didn't fully believe what he had said to her, his fury was still very palpable, and she was sure that if he didn't kill her, he would do other things to make her life a living hell.

"Then he would have to die, and his blood would be on your hands," Revan said, moving his palms to rest on the outside of her bare shoulders. "Move your hands up and put them on my back somewhere. Make it look intimate."

Bastila was at a loss for a split second but then moved her arms, which were inside of his, up until her hands were resting on the flat scapulas of his broad shoulders. She was acutely aware of his fingers on her skin and the tingle that accompanied his touch, and prayed that this would be over soon. His hands moved suddenly to cradle her face and he spoke one more time.

"Now arch into me a little bit," he said, feeling her tense more.

"I am quite confident that you are able to make him look the other way," Bastila replied stiffly, not moving an inch.

Revan pulled back and stared into her eyes, his face perilously close to hers. On the periphery of her vision, she saw the guard turn away and become very interested in a plant next to him. "Let's sit back down and have a pleasant dinner, shall we?" Revan asked, locking his anger away for the moment and controlling himself. He needed to keep a level head and not lose his temper, if for no other reason than to look as ordinary as possible to the humans and aliens alike that surrounded them tonight. But she made that so very hard...

"That sounds like a good idea," Bastila answered sullenly, trying desperately to ignore the nervous excitement she was feeling at his proximity, and saw him give a smile that was a bit frightening.

"I was hoping you would agree."

He let go of her and moved back, keeping a hand on the small of her back as they made their way back to their table and sat down again, the warmth of his palm and fingers seeping through her dress and into her skin. Their waiter showed up almost immediately, asking if they were ready to order and Revan politely told him that they need a few more minutes.

"The Gelmeat here is quite good, though it is sweet. The Jerked Bantha meat and Jerked Dewback meat are both excellent if you want something a little spicier. The Runyip stew is also well done, as is the Kommerken steak. Vercupti of sgazza boleruueé is also surprisingly on the menu, if you want something more familiar," Revan said, reading various items off the menu in a voice that didn't so much as hint as his earlier irritation. Bastila didn't reply from her spot across the table and didn't make any pretense of speaking until the waiter returned. Revan noticed this but ignored it; if she wanted to act like a pouting child, far be it from him to reprimand her.

"Are you ready to order now, sir?"

"I am. I'll have the Jerked Dewback meat," Revan said, handing the menu to the waiter.

"And you, ma'am?"

"I'll have the Thakitillo, please," Bastila answered, picking something that Revan hadn't mentioned and handing the waiter the menu as well.

"I'll have that out as soon as possible," the waiter said, once again leaving them alone. Bastila finally picked up her wineglass and took a sip, surprised to find that it was still cold and equally surprised at the way the alcohol went down smoothly and with a pleasant burn. She heard a noise and turned to look at Revan, seeing him cover his mouth with his right hand and stifle a yawn. Bastila noticed immediately the tattoo that adorned his right thumb and wrist as the sleeve of his shirt slid down, the ink starting at the junction of his thumb and hand and continuing a few inches down that side of his wrist. It looked as if it wrapped around his thumb a little bit, but she couldn't tell; the tattoo itself was black and of an unidentifiable design. It looked somewhat human, but had an air of another race's pattern in it as well.

"Where did you get that?" she asked.

He held up his hand with the tattoo and she nodded. "Where? Nowhere you would know of. I had it done while I had disappeared after the Mandalorian Wars."

"Oh," she said quietly, taking another sip of wine and looking out of the window they were sitting next to into the night sky of Belrand. Bastila could see the stars glittering brightly, even through the high skyscrapers and bright lights of the city, feeling another wave of despair grip her and twist her insides. There was a large view screen in the restaurant that was set to the HoloNet News channel; abruptly, the volume became louder and an announcement was made.

"It has just been brought to our attention that the planet of Telos IV was bombarded by the Sith earlier today. From what we can gather, it seems that Admiral Karath of the Sith fleet demanded a complete surrender, and when the Telosians didn't comply, Darth Malak, as instructed by the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Revan, ordered the bombing of the planet. 'If there was no real war before this, there sure as hell is one now,' one Republic Admiral has told us. 'This act of unadulterated mass murder will not be tolerated by the Republic, or the Jedi, who have already been aiding us in the fight against Darth Revan and the Sith.' No other comment was given, though it has been confirmed that Telos is no longer capable of supporting life. No known survivors have been named," a female human reported.

Bastila's furious gaze locked with Revan's calm one. "You bastard!" she hissed. "How could you order such a thing and kill all of those people like that?"

"They were informed as to what would happen to their planet if they did not surrender. It was their decision to make," Revan replied evenly. "I gave them the opportunity to spare those lives, and they didn't take it."

"But to render the planet incapable of supporting life?" Bastila continued, horrified at his callousness.

"That bombing was a message, Bastila, a message to your Jedi. It is well known by all members of the Order that the Jedi are to retreat to Telos in the event that Dantooine is attacked. The Jedi fear losing all of their records as they did on Ossus. Telos was also a strategic military location for the Republic. I'm not stupid, Bastila. I did not get to where I am today by strength alone," Revan explained.

Bastila fell silent as she knew what Revan's message to the Jedi was, opening herself to the Force as much as she could and barely feeling the millions of deaths, as restrained as she was due to her collar. Their food came then, saving Bastila from having to talk anymore and letting her sift through her own thoughts. The two of them ate in a silence that bordered on becoming tense and Revan finished first, setting his plate aside and pouring himself another glass of Crème D'Infame wine and taking a long draw from his glass afterwards. After what he felt was a sufficient wait, Revan asked Bastila if she was done with her food and she nodded mutely, pushing her plate away absently. Revan watched her, seeing how the news of the Telos bombing affected her so greatly and noticing how she seemed to mourn for those lives as if she had known them.

He recalled a time when he might have done the same thing, but the feeling of grief was so foreign to him now that he did not wish to dreg up the memory and feel the pain again. He felt no guilt for making her evening a much less merry one than it should have been, only a detached confusion at why she should be struck so by the news of Telos. It was a war, and war meant committing unsavory acts by many people's standards. Revan did not consider his action a blatantly cruel one – he had warned the people of Telos what would happen to them if they did not surrender, and they had chosen to accept that fate. Didn't she understand that? Didn't she understand that the people of Telos had sealed their own demise when they had refused his terms, which were quite lenient in all truth, and stubbornly chosen to stay loyal to the Republic? He knew that she was young but she had been more than old enough to understand what was happening during the Mandalorian Wars. This was no different.

Revan saw the lights in the restaurant dim and focus on the liberally sized dance floor in the middle of the room. Music began to play, a slow, soothing song that immediately dragged many a couple to the hardwood floor to dance intimately. Revan suddenly smiled wickedly to himself and rose from his seat, stopping in front of Bastila and holding out his right hand. She stared at it for a few seconds then looked up at him blankly, purposefully not making any effort to discern what he wanted.

"Dance with me," Revan said, making it a command and not a question.

"No."

His hand clenched for a brief moment at her stubborn attitude. "Need I say again that I am not requesting? Dance with me."

She gave him a glare that he was sure would have killed him on the spot if looks had lethal properties and took his hand, standing and letting him lead her to the dance floor. Revan stopped and turned to her, grasping her wrists and placing her hands on his shoulders, grabbing her small waist gently and pulling her close to his body until he could feel her more often than he couldn't as they moved slowly to the music. Bastila looked as if she was about to murder someone and Revan felt some small satisfaction at being able to irritate her so.

"Am I making you angry?" he whispered, leaning over near her ear again.

"If I could kill you, I would," she snarled.

"Good. This is a little payback for being so nasty to me earlier."

"You arse!" she hissed, digging her nails uncomfortably into his skin through the soft fabric of his graphite colored shirt.

He chuckled, moving his hands a little further back on her hips and a little further down, causing her to tense and dig her nails in even harder. "Better?"

"I'm not attracted to you in the least," she forced through clenched teeth, furious with his ministrations.

He let go of her suddenly. "Shit," he said in a brusque tone, looking angry. Revan was staring at something over her head and Bastila turned, seeing that he was looking at the view screen and that her face was on it. It was the Jedi portion of the news, and they were reporting that she was one of the Jedi missing since the attempted capture of Darth Revan and that there was a liberal sum of credits involved if anyone knew anything about her fate. Revan's hand was on the side of her face, almost gently tugging her gaze back to him and inconspicuously covering her features at the same time. Bastila felt the warmth of his hand against her skin as she stared up into his arcane green eyes and saw only a flicker of annoyance that betrayed the true fury he was feeling.

"Outside. Now," he grunted, pushing her in the direction of the exit, grabbing his overcoat as they passed by their table on the way outside.

"I don't exactly look the same with my hair down like this," she protested, not wanting to be exposed to the chilly night air in the dress she was in.

"Shut up."

"I will not –" Bastila was cut off as her throat tightened painfully and she lost all ability to breathe, let alone speak. Revan was speaking into a communicator, telling the limo that it needed to come back and pick them up right away but she knew that it was child's play for him to talk and choke her at the same time.

"What about the bill?" she asked as soon as the pressure had decreased.

"They don't need it."

"Won't that look suspicious?"

"The restaurant proprietors aren't stupid. If they brought it up, I'd kill them," Revan replied curtly. "They wouldn't bring it up for a few thousand credits, let alone three hundred."

They stopped walking and waited, Revan holding his black overcoat in one hand and letting the other hand hang free. Bastila angled herself so that he was blocking most of the wind that was blowing, creating a shield for herself for as long as she could. Suddenly, a man ran by, snatching up Revan's coat – or rather, he tried to snatch up Revan's coat. The Dark Lord yanked back and brought the man face-to-fist with his free right hand, lifting him into the air and knocking him flat on his back.

"Sonuvabitch!" the would-be mugger cursed as he struggled to pick himself up off ground, blood pouring from his nose. Revan saved him the trouble by grabbing the man roughly and hauling him to his feet, dragging him over to the edge of the walkway they were on and shoving him backwards some. The mugger fearfully watched the Dark Lord as he tried to stifle the flow of the slick red liquid that was running down his face and glanced behind himself, seeing that the metal turned quickly into air. "Nobody hits that hard..." he muttered.

"_You are a pathetic excuse for a human being_," Revan told him.

"I'm a...pathetic excuse for a human being," the mugger repeated groggily.

"_You want to rid the galaxy of your worthless existence_."

"I want to...rid the galaxy of my existence..."

Revan noticed at that moment that there was a sizeable crowd gathering, and that it would look far too suspicious if the man suddenly decided to fling himself off of the walkway. Turning around, he made to simply walk away and leave the mugger to his broken nose – though it was contrary to what he wanted to do – but fate was not so kind. The mugger suddenly sprang to life, running wildly at Revan and trying to tackle him; the Dark Lord sensed this and stepped out of the way, causing the man to fly past and sail over the edge of the walkway. He plummeted for a few hundred meters before finally impacting with a speeder with a sickening crunch, the speeder slamming into the nearest wall and beginning to screech downward as well. Their limo pulled up just then and Revan ushered Bastila inside, collapsing back against the padded seats once he was within the vehicle as well.

"You killed him," Bastila said quietly. Then, much louder, "You killed that man!"

Revan simply stared at her with a calm and even expression, waiting for her to both begin and finish her rant.

"You killed him, and for what? Because he tried to mug you? You could have just punched him and let him go! But no, you had to soothe your ego and do something to have control over the situation! You're too much of a coward to –"

Revan was suddenly two inches from her, crushing her throat with his hand and glaring down at her with a fire blazing in his eyes. "Don't _ever_ call me a coward!" he growled, forcing her to keep looking at him. "You know nothing about me! Don't presume to have the right to judge what I do! I'd like to see how you would fare in my shoes, Bastila. How long before you couldn't take it anymore? How long before you wished for death? Would you have the courage to end it yourself? Could you pull your own trigger, like I did? Or would you hope for death at the hands of another, like a true coward? You're nothing like me, so don't think that you know _anything_ about what goes on in my mind!"

He shoved her head back as he let go, smacking it against the wall of the limo and making white spots explode on the edges of her vision. Bastila struggled for air, breathing as much of it as she could into her lungs with each gasp and watching him fearfully, knowing that he could have easily killed her in that moment. Her mind replayed his words in her head, stopping on _'Could you pull your own trigger, like I did?'_ What did he mean by that? Had he tried to commit suicide once already? Bastila glanced back at him and saw that he was staring at her, his curled fist pressed to his lips and holding up his chin, his thumb placed underneath for support. His green eyes still burned with anger, but it was a slow simmer now, a boil that was shut up inside.

"And I didn't kill the dumb bastard. He tried to tackle me of his own free will," Revan grunted for a reason beyond him. Why did he care what she thought? Since when did he care what _anyone_ thought? He sighed in frustration and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and rubbing the side of his face with a hand. He needed to sleep for a long, long time, and he needed to be left alone for even longer. The chances of that were nil, as the war he had brought the Republic was now underway and he was going to have bounty hunters and mercenaries up his ass for Bastila.

He was going to kill whoever let it slip that she was alive.


	3. Chapter 3

:blinks and hides behind laptop: Please don't kill me...I have been working on this the entire time you've all been waiting, I swear to God! I am now a Junior in high school (read: hell) and it is the hardest year at my lovely private Christian college prep school. I have no life anymore. It is all school. That, and physical therapy, swimming with old people (shudders I am scarred for life from this...), getting back into playing basketball, having an amazing best friend, and just trying to sleep some before I commit suicide.

So, with all those excuses out of the way, here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it, as I think the plot thickens a bit (at least for a while). Oh, and someone asked if Bastila will ever admit that she likes Revan. Hmm..should she:evil grin: I won't say either way, but by the category of this story, it should be fairly obvious whether or not she admits it. Hers is not so much the important confession. Our snuggly Dark Lord of the Sith needs to get with the program as well, if he ever will. :grins more:

Kep, no disclaimers, as I am lazy. Enjoy the incredibly belated chapter.

* * *

Revan awoke drenched in a cold sweat from his feverish dreams and in a wretchedly stormy mood. Growling, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and activated the COM station that was beeping noisily from across his room.

"What?" he snapped as he winced at the brightness of the screen.

"Master, we have found survivors from the bombardment. Are we to kill them?" Malak's gruff mechanical voice asked from his ship.

Revan was about to answer 'yes', but changed his mind. "No, you may not kill them. Let them live. Let them tell others of what we will do to those who oppose us."

"Yes, Master," Malak replied. "Have you received the reports from Rhen Var?"

Revan shook his head.

"They have uncovered some Jedi artifacts and have discovered citadels that suggest a former civilization. No one has inhabited the planet for some time now, and it is all but forgotten in the Republic's eyes. I believe it would be a good site for a military base, Master. "

"I will be the one who decides that," Revan barked. "Tell the scouts to stay on Rhen Var. I'll be paying them a visit soon."

Revan switched off the COM screen and went into the refresher to take a cold shower and wash away the bizarre stain he felt pervaded his body. Since Bastila had arrived onboard, Revan had been unable to shake the strange sensations that assailed his body and mind when in the young Jedi's presence. He felt..._tainted_ with her, like she was in his blood somehow, and that did not appeal to him in the least. Unfortunately, the cold shower did nothing to help him – he still felt as if she was beneath his skin in some way.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_ he thought to himself. _Bastila couldn't have done anything. She's been in the Force suppression collar since arriving on this ship. I would have felt it if she tried._

Revan shoved that from his thoughts for the moment, knowing today would be one of his least pleasant ones. Now that the news of the Telos bombing was out, he was going to have to keep his entire army up to date on his orders. That meant paperwork and an incessant amount of calls to the ranking officers, something that he despised doing. Revan had always made it a priority to keep himself very involved in his army and all aspects of the empire he was forging as it bred trust between the conquered planets, the army, and the empire as a whole. He was going to need a unified, unbreakable realm under his control for what he saw in the future. He felt a coldness sweep over him at the memory of what he had seen beyond the Outer Rim, in Unknown Space, in the voids that no one dared to venture. There were not many things in life that scared Revan, but what he had witnessed in Unknown Space had deeply unsettled him.

Sighing heavily, he dressed quickly in his patented set of armor – the heavily modified Sith robes with traces of Jedi influence still in them. He slipped his black pants on first, followed by his skintight black sleeveless shirt, tucking that into his pants and securing them at the waist with an easily flexible fabric belt. Revan grabbed his boots next, putting them on and tucking his pant legs into the shoes. He cinched the boots tight around his calves but left a little breathing room where the boots stopped just below his knees for movement. They were made of an interesting material akin to leather that was considered to be the color of black, but performed an eerie shift to silver depending on the light. Revan grabbed his long-sleeved armored tunic next, sliding his arms through the reinforced cortosis-weave fiber of the sleeves; he grabbed the breastplate with the cross-brace already attached and slid it down over his head, thrusting his arms through the holes and making sure everything was as he liked it, adjusting the protective material that covered his neck up to the base of his jaw.

He picked up his cape and hood, which were also attached, and placed the hood over his head, bringing the cape clasps up over his cloth-covered shoulder guards and securing them on the top front of his breastplate. His gauntlets were next, and he slid them up his forearms, tucking the sleeves of his shirt into the gauntlets and making sure his fingers went all the way through the gloves that he wore. Cinching those tightly around his arms, he finally grabbed his red and black mask and placed it over his face, obscuring all hints of his features from any who were to look at him. Lastly, he secured another belt around his armored waist that had a sash interwoven between its many rings and flowed down around his legs to his feet. Revan drew his hood up over his head and attached his lightsaber to this belt, fully dressed and prepared for whatever this day might throw at him.

Though there were many components to his armor, Revan had whittled the act of dressing in it down to a science. If the need so demanded, he could be ready in full armor within two minutes; as it was, it only took him four to clothe himself at a leisurely pace. Revan wasn't a man to waste energy, and everything about him attested to that fact: even when at 'rest', his movements were efficient and quick.

He sighed again, steeled himself and made a vow that he would_ try_ not to kill anyone, no matter how incompetent, boorish, or altogether brainless they were being.

Force, this was going to be a hellish day.

* * *

Bastila, who had been listening to the sounds of him dressing, heard his deep sigh. She was surprised that she almost felt his weariness and reluctance to leave the sanctity and relative safety of his room. Her empathetic side was about to feel sorry for him because of the burden he had to bear every day he woke up, but her rational – and somewhat cynical – side reminded her that he had chosen this burden for himself. Still...

Bastila shook her head and refused to let herself feel any compassion for the man. He was a cold, cruel, calculating, Machiavellian prick, end of story. But then why did she feel like she was missing something? All of the adjectives she could think of to describe him just seemed to fall miserably short, no matter how potent their meaning or how close to the truth they were. A pessimistic smirk formed on her face as she considered the possibility that she didn't even know the truth; Bastila didn't bother to deny that fact, as she really didn't know anything about Revan. She knew what he showed her, and as of today, it wasn't anything that she couldn't have figured out on her own. Well, mostly on her own. His treatment of her was baffling, she had to admit. One moment he was letting her enjoy the luxurious room he had provided, or an expensive dinner, and the next he was slapping a Force suppression collar around her neck, choking her, and nearly breaking her wrist. But what had confused Bastila the most was the fact that he had never truly hurt her, though she could tell that he had wanted to whenever she had pushed him too far.

He had set the Force suppression collar to a relatively low level of voltage, so even though she ended up electrocuting herself nearly a hundred times daily, it never caused any permanent damage. He had fractured her wrist when he had twisted it, she knew that for a fact by the searing pain that had accompanied a rather agonizing crunch, but then he had healed her. And though he had choked her twice, once had been only enough to shut her up, and the other time had cut off her air only long enough to begin to blacken her vision – nowhere near enough to make her pass out or with enough force to crush her windpipe.

So either he was lying when he said that she meant nothing to him, or he wasn't such a heartless bastard after all. Bastila assumed that it was more of the former than the latter, if the latter at all. She had seen that he could be completely civilized – even polite – if he had to be and that just served to deepen the confusing picture he portrayed. Bastila wondered what had happened to him to make him turn into the Dark Lord of the Sith. From what she had heard of him, he had been so moved by the deaths of the Cathar after the attack on their home planet that he had defied the Council's wishes and taken Malak and many others to war with him. How did someone like that, so valuing of life, turn into the Dark Lord of the Sith? What had happened to him during the Mandalorian Wars? Bastila resigned herself to not knowing for the time being, figuring that even if she asked him, he would most likely not tell her. An idea suddenly struck her, and she opened the door to his room, peering around cautiously. Revan wasn't within the walls, so she stepped inside of his spacious room and took in her surroundings.

What she didn't know was that she had been drifting in and out of sleep for a few hours during her thoughts, and that it was much, much later than she believed it to be.

His carpet was the color of graphite, his walls a matte black. His bedspread was next to catch her eye, its deep crimson color surprising her with its richness. Revan's bed was larger than hers and equally as comfortable looking. He had a communications console against the west wall, as she looked into the room, and a computer desk against the opposite east wall. Various holo-cubes and holo-discs were scattered across this surface, and his chair was awry. Bastila made her way to the left and found his refresher, another large, spacious room with a bathtub that looked like it could double for a Jacuzzi if Revan so desired. His shower was large as well, and Bastila noticed with a mixture of expectance and disgust that there was a thin mirror along the nozzle wall. Curious as to what could be seen with the mirror, she opened the glass door and stepped inside. Finding little of interest, she exited the shower and nosed around in his refresher for a little while, both surprised and frustrated at its immaculateness. Remembering the holo-discs on his computer desk, Bastila re-entered his room and grabbed one, inserting it into the computer and pressing 'play'. An image of a young Revan appeared on the screen and Bastila saw that his face had a growth of stubble, his eyes were bloodshot and weary, and he looked exhausted.

"_This is the video log of...it doesn't matter. If I don't live through this, no one will find this log of any importance anyway. I have decided to force the Mandalorians to Malachor V, the one planet where they seem to refuse to set foot on. I have taken all those loyal to me and placed them where I want them...the rest of the fleet...I wish it didn't have to be this way. One of the technicians – a Zabrak by the name of Bao-Dur, I believe – has built a device he calls the 'Mass Shadow Generator'. It will radically alter the gravitational pull of Malachor V and will hopefully be the key to this battle. I've been assured by Bao-Dur that the device is fully operational and will do exactly what it is supposed to do."_ The young Revan ran his hands over his face and sighed heavily.

_"We're all tired...so very tired of this war, and I pray that my decision is the right one. I see the end in sight, but after going down to Malachor V...this is just the beginning. The Council was right, it wasn't the Mandalorians alone that decided to invade the Outer Rim, something pushed them into it. I've seen what pushed them...and if I don't act, it could mean the end of the Republic. I feel like I'm losing myself...I can't feel anymore. I just feel...hollow. I don't know if it's because of what happened to me on the surface of Malachor or because of this war, but it's like someone took a lightsaber and burned it through me – I can feel the hole, but not the pain."_ He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed them, opening them soon after and staring back into the holo-recorder.

_"I know what I have to do. The Council won't listen to me, not after the acts I'm guilty of committing. I've found something that can help me, something that is older than the Republic and just waiting to be used. Malak has said that he'll follow me wherever I take him, no matter what the cost."_ Revan smiled grimly._ "Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to lose my best friend? I never wanted any of this...and I never meant to draw anyone else into it either. Now I'm in too deep, and I have to become the thing I hate to save the thing I love. Fate's irony is cruel, and I'm suffering at its hand the most."_ His youthful face became resolute. _"But if that's what it takes to keep this Republic alive, then that's the sacrifice I have to make. I just hope in time they'll understand..."_ The holo-vid shut off abruptly and Bastila yelped in fright as a hand ripped the holo-disc out of the socket and slammed it down on the table, backhanding her before she could react. Bastila fell to the floor and spit up blood, her lip ruptured from the blow and her nose screaming in agony. She looked up into the murderously livid face of an older, real Revan, his green eyes blazing with anger and flirting with a reddish hue.

"Who the _fuck_ told you you could come into my room and view my personal belongings?" he snarled in a dangerously low voice. Bastila's voice failed her, and she couldn't come up with a response for his question. He yanked her up by her arm, nearly pulling it out of its socket, and dragged her to the door that connected their rooms, shoving her roughly through it and following her into her room. Revan pinned her against the far wall and forced her to look up at him.

"What else did you see?" he demanded.

"Dothing!" she snapped, trying to stem the flow of blood that streamed from her mouth and her nose.

"Don't lie to me," he growled.

"I didn' see adything else!" Bastila persisted. "You came bin as sood as it fidished!"

He pushed her a little harder against the wall as if to try and force the information out of her, but she stared defiantly into his red-hued eyes, tears brimming in her own from the throbbing pain of her mouth and nose, meeting his fury with an almost foolish bravery. Abruptly, he seemed to notice the river of blood that now painted her chin and stained her robes. His large hands cupped her face for a moment before he gently thrust two fingers inside of her mouth and inspected her split lip, making sure she hadn't bitten down on her tongue or her cheek. There was something intimate about having his fingers inside of her mouth, touching her tongue and playing on her lips as he assessed the damage he had done, and Bastila felt an odd tightness in her gut. When his fingers withdrew, they were covered in her blood and glistened with the slick liquid; he absently wiped them on his skintight black shirt, yanking it out of his pants and pulling it up to clean the blood from her chin, mouth and nose. Bastila's eyes screwed shut at the agony his firm wiping caused and felt tears leak out from the corners of her eyes, hoping to the Force that he didn't see. But Revan did, and brushed her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, his concentration mostly on her nose now. Again, Bastila felt that there was a strange intimacy connected with the way he wiped away her tears, and the tightness in her gut clenched a little more. She couldn't help a pained groan as his fingers gripped her nose and moved it gently to the left and right.

"You broke id you basdard," she forced through gritted teeth.

"You've broken your nose before," he stated in a near-mutter, half-ignoring her.

"Ah! And how...do you dow that?"

"I didn't hit you hard enough to break your nose. It broke because it wasn't set or healed properly last time. This is going to hurt."

Revan didn't give her any time to reply as he shoved her nose back into the place it was supposed to be. She tensed and grabbed his shirt with one hand, twisting it and pulling it up, trying to pull away from his hands the entire time. He held her head in place with his other hand, sending a pulse of Force healing through her and calming her struggles.

"We've done this so many times now you should know that I'm not going to leave you injured," he told her, his voice softer than he meant it to be. Quickly re-adopting his impersonal tone, he spoke again. "You are allowed in my room, but I never said you were allowed to browse through my things. Was I unclear when I told you that?"

She glared up at him, feeling his hand still on the back of her head and the warmth of his body through the part of his shirt she was still gripping. "You dever said I couldn't 'browse' through your things."

"It should have been obvious," Revan replied gruffly. "I'm not a personal man – I don't share myself with others."

"That depends on what part of you you're talking about," Bastila said, her voice hinting at resentment.

Revan's smirk singed her. "I get the feeling you don't like the fact that I've slept with so many women."

Bastila's glare was accompanied by a snarl. "I couldn't care less what you do with your free time. It's the fact that you have to do it while I'm around. At least tell them to shut the hell up. It can't be _that_ incredible."

She felt his laughter rumble in his chest through her hand and involuntarily held her breath. "Would you like to find out why my guests are so vocal?" Revan taunted, the barest hint of true desire flashing in his eyes before he controlled it.

Bastila was only somewhat shocked at his blunt offer but couldn't deny the tiniest amount of pleasure at knowing he wanted her. "I'm sure you would enjoy that," she said, leaning closer to him, "but I'm afraid I wouldn't sleep with you even if you were the last man in the galaxy."

Revan's smile became somewhat feral and he almost eliminated any distance between their bodies, lowering his mouth very close to hers. "Now that is entirely untrue," he said in a low, sexy voice.

"Is it?" she challenged, meeting his arcane green eyes with her effervescent grey ones.

"Yes, it is."

"I would tell you to prove it, but I don't need to be violated in such a way," Bastila told him as she deftly slipped away from him, feeling a great deal of relief at being out of his reach.

Revan shrugged, not looking put-out in the least. "I can find many others, so don't flatter yourself. The fact that I would have sex with you doesn't mean much. I would sleep with a lot of women, but you already know that," he said coldly.

"Yes, which is why I'm surprised you don't have hundreds of little illegitimate children running around," Bastila shot right back, angry at his dig.

He frowned. "Do you think I'm stupid? I'm very careful with what I do." His face became even more serious. "Besides, a child is a weakness I cannot afford to have."

"You're a selfish arse, you know that?"

Revan's eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't know anything about me. I believe I already told you that once, when I had you by your throat," he growled. "But I'm sure after watching that holo-vid, you have a better picture of who I am."

"You mean who you used to be?" Bastila asked, meaning it to be an insult.

"No, I mean who I am," he stated firmly. "Once again, your ignorance rears its ugly head."

"_My_ ignorance? You know nothing about me!"

Revan paused. "This is true. However, I make no presumptions about you," he stated in his ever-aloof tone. She punched out a frustrated sigh and shook her head as she went into her refresher to clean the rest of the blood off of her face. Bastila was shocked to find that her nose looked no different than it had before he had broken it – in fact, if anything, it looked smoother and altogether more symmetrical than before. Revan, who was leaning against the doorway, watched her inspect her face.

"Are you surprised?"

She gave him a quick glance that consisted of a glare. "Should I not be? Usually a broken nose implies a shift in feature – or at least that was the case for me last time."

He smirked again. "My healing skills are quite proficient. It was a simple matter to set it and repair the fracture."

"Glad to know you're able to fix what you break," Bastila retorted, splashing water on her face and rubbing gingerly, the area still sore.

"If I break it, maybe you won't stick it into my business as much, now will you?"

Bastila scowled at him. "Get out of my room."

Revan gave a short bark of laughter that fueled her anger at him. "_Your_ room? Bastila, nothing that you see is yours – not this room, not the clothes you're wearing…not even the air you're breathing. If I wanted, I could take it all away." He paused. "That blood won't come out easily if you let it dry," he remarked as he entered the refresher with her, squatted down and rummaged through a drawer. When Revan stood, he was holding a bottle of some kind of liquid; Bastila's stare was still into the mirror, and she immediately noticed the tattoo on his left arm that was reflected by the pane of glass. It was of similar design to the one on his wrist, and she couldn't deny some fascination with it.

"What are you staring at?" Revan's voice broke through her thoughts.

She turned her head to look at him. "Did you get that tattoo after the Mandalorian Wars as well?"

Revan glanced down at his left arm. "Yes," he said simply.

As she now had something to draw attention to his arms, Bastila found that they were impeccably defined in their musculature. All muscles were proportional, not overly large, but pronounced enough to let one know of the strength they held.

"Your reaction time to my blow was horrendous, you know that?" Revan suddenly asked, cocking his head to the side in an almost adorable manner.

Bastila glared at him. "It is a slight bit hard to get out of the way of such a large thing if it is flying at my face from close range."

He couldn't suppress a chuckle. "That may be true, but you can't tell me that you had no idea I was in the room."

Her glare increased with her embarrassment. "No, I didn't. I was too absorbed in your little...'monologue' to notice. And besides, this damn Force suppression collar doesn't help things." She suddenly noticed his attire. "And how did you get out of your armor so fast?"

He gave her a blank stare. "Must I explain my every waking moment to you? You aren't my wife, so stop nagging me," he snapped.

"I am not nagging, and anyone who would marry you needs to be checked for insanity, or possibly a brain-eating disease," she shot back, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

His mouth curled into a dark, enticing smile. "Unless love was involved, I highly doubt the woman would be able to put up with me. I am not..." Revan paused, searching for the right words. "My presence is not an enjoyable one to be around for most people. My personality craves isolation, thrives on it...and ironically I have achieved the single most isolated job in the universe. Women just want me for pleasure – I do not seem to have the qualities they search for in a loving husband," he joked darkly.

Bastila saw the sad tinge that cast a shadow over his normally electrifying eyes before he hid it, burying the emotion wherever it was that he kept them when he didn't want them to be seen.

"Well, it isn't as if you try," she half-snapped, feeling a minuscule twinge of compassion for him.

Revan's dark smile persisted. "Tried, failed, and gave up. I truly believe that I am not meant for relationships," he told her, noticing the way her voice and countenance had softened marginally. Was she feeling sorry for him? He doubted it. "But it isn't as if it ever mattered. Love is a weakness for a Jedi and a Sith, is it not? You and I...we can't afford to feel. Not affection, anyway."

Her brief flirt with compassion had ended as he became cold again. "Not as if I would even consider that with you. And you seem to have found the next best thing," she told him, turning her back to him and walking away into the closet that was attached to the refresher. He followed.

"I still get the feeling that you're jealous of what I do..." he continued, his tone carrying the air of a detached observance.

Her back was still to him, and she was thankful he couldn't see her face burn. "I am _not_," Bastila snapped. "I'm just–"

"Curious," Revan interrupted. "That's understandable."

She whirled around, prepared to give him a piece of her mind, only to come face-to-chest with him and stop, her mouth open. Shutting it quickly, she glared up at him. "Get away from me."

He smirked, now amused at her fiery temper. "Why?"

Bastila closed her eyes and tried very hard to keep from losing her calm – or what little she had left. That, and she was trying desperately to ignore the fact that once again, she could feel how warm he was, how close his body was to hers, and she fought to suppress the want to know what he felt like, the "What if?" that plagued her curiosity.

"Because I hate you," she growled.

"Hate is such a strong word," he replied. "And what reason do you have to hate me?"

"Because you're you," she shot back. "I don't need any more reason than that."

"That's wonderful logic. Hate can easily be mistaken for…" Revan said, getting ready to taunt her some more, but he heard his COM unit beep in his room and closed his eyes, rubbing his goatee slowly in an effort to stay calm. "Just leave me alone," Bastila thought she heard him mutter almost pleadingly as he turned and left her alone in her closet.

Revan was already in a foul mood today, and he wanted nothing more than to disappear and have no one need him for the rest of his waking and sleeping hours. The person on the other end of the COM unit, Malak, was met with a picture of Revan's relatively calm visage. Malak knew better than to relax, however, as his Master's eyes told all that he needed to see – the green irises were darkened with harnessed rage, and seemed to vacillate between a stormy green and a reddish shade.

"What?" the Dark Lord asked curtly, his deep, smooth voice betraying not a hint of his anger.

"I am calling to confirm your arrival time, as you wished, Master," Malak spoke, his mechanical voice gruff to the ears, amplified by the metallic tinge that the COM unit gave to audio output.

"And?"

Malak glanced down at the data pad he was holding. "You ordered a slot be kept open for you two days from now, the block of time cleared: 0900 – 1300 hours."

Revan mentally calculated all of that and was satisfied for the moment. "Yes, that will do fine," he said clinically. "I'm sure you've prematurely selected your teams," he added, knowing full well that Malak had not. Revan was always prepared, however, and had gone through an extensive process to select the men he wanted for his search teams – he expected Malak to do the same if he was ever to seize the mantle of Dark Lord. He smirked for a moment, thinking how ironic it was that he was teaching Malak how to lead when his apprentice's only wish was to kill him and take his power.

"No, Master, I have not finished the sifting process as of yet. It shall be complete within the next three hours."

"Very well," Revan said simply, dismissing any irritation he was tempted to feel at Malak's expected, albeit trivial, failure. "Unless there is something vitally important, I do not wish to be contacted again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master," Malak nodded.

Revan shut off the COM unit without any warning, having nothing more to say to his apprentice. Standing up from the edge of his bed that he had propped himself against, he sighed, realizing that he had yet to inform Bastila that she was about to be plunged into below-freezing weather. The door between their rooms was still open, and he walked through it, entering her room and finding her clad in clean robes now.

"What do you want?" she asked exasperatedly, obviously on her way to close the door.

Revan frowned. "I am the one who tolerates your presence here, not the other way around. Remember that," he related coldly. "And I think it would be best if you knew you were going to be visiting the surface of Rhen Var within the next two days, don't you?"

Bastila's brows furrowed. "Rhen Var? Why? There's nothing there."

"Precisely," he answered. "You can't cause any trouble down there or you're likely to get yourself killed. Which is why you're a part of my team: so I can keep an eye on you and make sure that you _don't_ do anything to kill yourself."

Bastila's cheeks flushed in anger. "I am not going to be baby-sat by you!"

Revan rolled his eyes. "It is not baby-sitting unless you consider yourself a child. You are my prisoner – I can do with you what I wish. I find it interesting that you are not thankful in the least that I haven't decided to have you beaten, or tortured for information…or that I haven't tried to force myself on your or let any of my men have their way with you. Your insolence is tiring," he growled.

Bastila glared furiously at him. "Bastard," she said sullenly.

Revan ignored her. "Your cold-climate gear is in your closet – it shouldn't be hard to find. Make sure it fits."

He left her standing there and took the initiative to close the door himself, closing his eyes and taking a breath as he heard it slide shut behind him. She was infuriating sometimes…

Figuring he might as well check his own gear to make sure everything was in order, he searched out his closet and inspected every piece of equipment he would need.

* * *

(2 days later; 1147 hours)

Revan adjusted his goggles and pulled them down over his eyes; he needed to shield his gaze from the harsh, reflective glare of the sunlight that the pristinely white snow, thickly blanketing the surface of Rhen Var, threw up to blind him. Swiveling his head in all directions, he quickly confirmed that all teams were present.

"Sante."

"Yes sir?" the soldier replied.

"Contact Malak. Tell him we have arrived safely and are proceeding to the camp."

"Sir," Sante said in affirmative. Malak had arrived with his preliminary teams a week earlier, and had the task of setting up a suitable camp for all parties on the surface. Revan felt how the deep, penetrating cold tried to stab its icy fingers through his thermal suit, the sensation akin to feeling an ice cube hovering just above his skin. The absence of heat sucked all warmth away from his hands, and a painful, needle-like ache began to throb in his fingers. He had three layers on, for that was all that was needed: an under-layer consisting of clothing comparable to undergarments, more specifically, long pants and a sleeveless shirt that acted as a second skin; the thermal suit that was another skintight apparatus, though not simply cloth. It was outfitted with sensors to regulate his body temperature, and was about a millimeter bulkier; and finally, a stratum of light armor that was specifically designed for resistance to cold temperatures and that contained a device that could act as a retractable helmet if needed. Of course, he was outfitted with weapons – a crimson single-bladed lightsaber on his belt, three throwing knives on his right thigh, three on his left boot, a dagger on his belt as well as a thin, metal alloy cable that was able to support up to three tons, and lastly, two serrated daggers in his left and right gauntlets.

He glanced behind him and saw that Bastila was already shivering, rubbing herself for warmth. Rolling his eyes behind his goggles, he dropped back next to her.

"Rubbing your arms won't do any good," he told her.

Bastila glared murderously from behind her own goggles. She _hated_ being cold…but interestingly enough, loved cold climates and cold weather. This planet was absolutely breathtaking in its beauty, and she felt entirely at home – just ridiculously cold.

"Where is this camp?" she asked, her voice conveying her discomfort.

"About half a mile," Revan answered. "By the time we get there, you'll have warmed up."

Bastila stayed silent, thinking over everything that had happened in the last few days. Revan had told her that she was going to be staying with him in the miniature biosphere like domes that served as their living quarters, and she had immediately protested, though it was a futile argument. They both knew that she couldn't possibly stay with anyone else while on Rhen Var and that Revan, however undesirable she might find his company, was her safest choice.

"There are already areas that are set up for living quarters while we are down here. You will be staying with me, though I'm sure that comes as no surprise to you. Please do not wander around the camp if I am gone – I do not trust any of my men, and I…worry for your physical well-being in their hands," he had told her, his usual coldness offset by an air of seriousness she had never heard in his voice before. He really mustn't have trusted his men…

And then there was the issue of her being able to protect herself if he was indeed gone.

"I do not wish to limit your abilities just to be cruel; I am simply taking into account the safety of my men. You could easily kill many, if not all, of my soldiers, and I cannot have that. As it is, you don't need the Force to protect yourself, even though you may feel differently. Think of this as a lesson, Bastila. Learn not to depend on the Force for everything – let yourself see the universe through a non-Jedi's eyes, or at least, through a non-Jedi's eyes as much as you can. I know you don't like the collar – I hated it as well, but I am the better for it," Revan had said quietly in his ever-maddeningly detached tone while on the way to Rhen Var when she had complained again about the Force suppression collar around her neck.

He had been forced to wear a suppression collar? When was this? Bastila kept this piece of information stored away for a later time when she would ask him about it. Right now though, she wanted to concentrate on keeping herself warm enough to stay alive. As she trudged behind Revan, she noticed the way his hands were shivering and was surprised to know that he of all people was cold. Almost as soon as she noticed this, however, his hands became perfectly still as if he was somehow warm again and she frowned, knowing that he had used the Force to push heat to his extremities.

"This collar is going to make me freeze to death," she hissed in his ear and saw him frown from the side. Bastila suddenly felt a rush of warmth flood her body and fell silent. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly mutable?

"We're here," she heard him say, a cloud of vapor curling out from behind the fabric that covered his mouth, skull, and most of his face, his warm breath condensing in the below-freezing temperature. Bastila looked up and was surprised to catch sight of a large stone citadel, crumbling from years of decay. Half-broken flights of steps dotted the area, buildings with collapsed roofs and walls connected by corridors spanned the ground in front of her; two huge monoliths of stone rose up from a base that extended past the actual ground, stretching over a vast abyss that swallowed up all light as one looked down into the gash in the planet's surface. One structure resembled a silo, but all the others were reminiscent of a city that was now deserted and destroyed.

"I thought no one was here," Bastila said confused.

Revan glanced back at her, his face indiscernible from behind his goggles and the facemask he was wearing. "There hasn't been anyone on the planet for thousands of years. The climate shift killed everything, as you can see. The species that live on the planet now have been brought in, mostly by accident, and a select few original species were able to survive the sudden plunge in temperature long enough to adapt. Nothing here is native anymore."

Revan picked his way through the camp that was set up in the citadel, weaving his way between the biospheres that served as living quarters for his men. The Dark Lord stopped in front of his biosphere – the largest one, for it housed much equipment – and entered the door code, letting himself in and hearing Bastila step in soon after. From the outside, the biosphere looked rather cramped and like it wouldn't do much to keep out the cold, but from the inside, Bastila saw that it was a very different story. The structure was rather large and spacious, even with all the electronic equipment that cluttered the area; there was a comfortably arranged sleeping area – that held only one large bed, she noticed with dismay – an eating area with a makeshift kitchen, what looked like a refresher, and a place for all of their gear. And most importantly, it was now bearably cold as opposed to deathly freezing. Her gaze found Revan again, and watched as he pulled the facemask down to his throat and removed the goggles from his eyes, tossing them onto a table. His emerald irises slid to her, a gaze she could always too palpably feel, and she met his stare.

His pale skin was flushed a light shade of pink from the cold, but his lips seemed to have lost some color; his eyes shone out with the same maliciously intelligent light that she was almost used to seeing. Bastila noticed that he had trimmed short the beard on his chin and for the first time, she caught the thin, nearly imperceptible line of a scar there, opposite the eye that had a scar as well. When had he gotten that? Revan blinked once, his head angling to the side in a cold but curious manner, an action which Bastila could not help but find charming, no matter how much she tried not to. One dark eyebrow of his rose, and he spoke.

"Something wrong?" he asked scathingly, his tone bitingly sarcastic.

"No…" she answered stiffly. In fact, there _was_ something wrong – the sleeping arrangement. There was one bed and two of them, and she was not relishing the fact of being forced to sleep in the same bed as the Dark Lord of the Sith. Pushing that aside for now, she made a clipped inquiry. "Is this where we'll be staying?"

Revan finally turned away from her, picking up a data pad and glancing down at it. "Yes, this is where our living area is. I trust all is satisfactory?" he asked, still with an edge to his voice. Bastila knew it would not be wise to disagree with him at the moment and as such, nodded in assent. She finally pulled off her facemask as well, having removed her goggles as soon as she had stepped inside the biosphere, and now placed the goggles next to Revan's on the table. She absentmindedly scratched at the metal collar around her neck and leaned against the table, watching Revan as there was nothing better to do – or at least, that was what she told herself.

He was staring intently at a data pad, his brows furrowed and his mouth set in a frown, all of this done in his own peculiar way that made his expressions unique. If she were to be honest, at the moment, he did not look intimidating in the least; on the contrary, he looked rather…amusing…with his face in a frustrated grimace. Mentally kicking herself for even allowing such a thought to cross her mind, she sighed. He was the Dark Lord of the Sith – how was it possible for anything he did to be endearing? What the hell was wrong with her? It was then that his frustrated stare fell on her, and she caught a glimpse of the anger in his eyes, bringing her back to a much more grounded reality where Revan was a volatile, unsafe man.

Bastila smirked. "Something wrong?" she asked acerbically, using his words against him.

His frown deepened. "When an entire team goes missing, I would warrant a guess that there is something wrong," he snapped, tossing the data pad onto the bed and sighing, running both of his large hands through his dark, somewhat ruffled mane.

She sobered and stood from the table, a look of disquiet on her face. "An entire team missing? How is that possible?"

"That is a very good question," he said irritably. "If this was an inhabited planet, it wouldn't be such a surprise, but this planet has an amount of life that is so small it's infinitesimal. But an entire team is gone, and no one knows why." He punched out an angry breath. "Stay here, do _not_ leave," he ordered, exiting the biosphere and reemerging into the harshly cold weather, his destination: Malak's biosphere.

The Dark Lord's apprentice sensed his master's presence seconds before he burst through the door, utterly livid. "Where the fuck is my team?" Revan demanded.

"Master, we have been trying to find them for three days, but nothing has turned up. The only things we have managed to recover are on that table…" the apprentice said, pointing at a small table that held the bloody remains of a jacket, a cracked data pad, and a blood-drenched holo-recorder. Revan stared at the contents of the table for a while before letting his green gaze meet Malak's brown one.

"You're telling me they've been eaten?" he asked rather calmly, knowing it was already true.

"It would seem so. Blood was everywhere when we reached their last known point, and this was all we were able to salvage. The men are not happy with this, Master – they thought this wasn't supposed to be a dangerous mission, and some are threatening to leave," Malak told Revan with a tone that conveyed the utmost annoyance. Malak had been forced to deal with the insubordinates for the past few days, and the idiots were getting on his nerves.

"Is that so?" Revan growled, half lost in his own thoughts. "Tell them that if they want to leave, by all means, leave, but I won't let a transport come pick them up. If they want to leave, there's an entire planet for them to wander around on – perhaps they'll meet up with the missing team or whatever ate them," he said coldly. "Otherwise, they can shut the hell up. They'd do well to be more afraid of me than whatever ate their companions." The Dark Lord took the data pad and the holo-recorder from the table, turning back to Malak. "Make sure all the men are outfitted with weapons. I will not have another team disappearing like this."

Revan quickly returned to his own biosphere and found Bastila sitting on the edge of the bed, reading the data pad that he had previously been studying.

"It sounds like they've been eaten," she said, a look of shock on her features.

"Yes, that is the conclusion that has been drawn," he replied curtly. "Give me the data pad."

Bastila frowned at his rudeness but handed him the data pad anyway, watching as he pulled out a thin memory strip from it and placed it aside, pulling out a cracked and broken data pad and removing the memory strip, inserting it into the working device. She saw his green eyes rove over the entire data pad once, then again, then one more time.

"Fools," he breathed, lowering the data pad.

"What?" Bastila asked, her curiosity taking hold.

Revan's glare was muted, but still strong. "Nothing that concerns you," he replied, key-locking the data pad and turning it off, placing it on the table.

"Nothing that concerns me?" she repeated incredulously. "What kind of answer is that? I am here on this Force-forsaken planet with a Force suppression collar snapped around my neck, no weapon and no way to defend myself if something tries to attack and eat _me_, and you're telling me this is none of my concern?"

Revan's emerald eyes were narrowed dangerously. "That is precisely what I'm saying, and you can either deal with that or kill yourself now and get it over with. It'd be less messy," he retorted coldly, "and it would save me the trouble."

"What are we here for anyway?" she muttered, knowing that she could not win that argument, her pride stung by his comment.

"We're looking for Jedi and Sith artifacts," Revan replied somewhat honestly. That was part of the reason they were here; he did not have to tell her everything. Pulling out the bloody holo-recorder from a pouch on his side, Revan started it up and set it on a flat surface, letting it play. For the first few hours of the recording, there was nothing of interest, and he skipped over these sections, stopping when he came across a suspicious looking image. He let the scenes play like normal after a while, and Bastila and Revan both found themselves gazing into a dark cave that held impenetrable blackness as far as the eye could see. The men were shivering, as the temperatures had dropped to deadly levels, but still they pressed on. Something moved in the holo-recorder's periphery and Revan quickly paused the video image, backing it up and replaying it slowly, trying to discern what it was that was in the picture.

"That looks like some kind of arm," Bastila commented. Revan came over to where she was and gazed at the picture from her angle, seeing that it did indeed appear to be an arm. But an arm of what? An animal-like sentient? A beast? Playing the video again, Revan's foul mood increased. A team member disappeared, the team began to panic, they spread out, got picked apart by whatever it was that was hunting them and not a single one survived their bloody and gruesome encounter.

Unfortunately, any images that Revan managed to pause and capture were too blurry or too little of a glimpse of the thing to give a definitive guess to what it was. Sighing, he shut off the holo-recorder and began to remove himself of his armor, placing the protective suit on a hook that protruded from the wall of the biosphere. He felt Bastila watching him but ignored her, undressing himself quickly and in silence.

Bastila was indeed watching Revan, and was doing so in a state of wonder. When he had removed the armor, all that was left was his thermal suit and the undergarments he was wearing – both of which were skintight. Everything was visible, and Bastila got a view of more than she ever expected to see of him…and the fact that he wasn't done undressing frightened her a bit. He unzipped the thermal suit, dragging the zipper down from his throat all the way to just past where she assumed his navel would be. He peeled the suit off of his upper body and shoved it down till it was around his ankles, then yanked it off his feet and stepped out of it. He was wearing long pants underneath, and they were just as tight, if not tighter than the thermal suit; his sleeveless shirt was perhaps a molecule away from his skin and clung to his strong chest and taut stomach. His arms were bare, and once again, Bastila marveled at their definition, as well as the streamlined way each muscle seemed to flow into the other. His intricately designed tattoo drew her attention; she saw that it disappeared into his shirt and she wondered just how much of his skin it spanned.

Bastila could not deny that the markings on his skin made him more attractive; as it was, he was very handsome in a dark sort of way – not dark in features, but in the dark aura he exuded, a kind of seductive pull that she could not rightly ignore. That, combined with his arcane green eyes, deadly grace, and rather imposing size all served to make him tantalizingly desirable. Bastila cursed inwardly as she realized he was rapidly meeting every criterion she had for a man: he was handsome; he did have a sense of humor, though dark, he could be perfectly civil; he was bigger than she was, thus offering protection; he was strong, intelligent…she stopped there for her sanity. She reminded herself that he was evil, but even that did not help at the moment.

Revan found a loose, grey, textured cotton long sleeve shirt and slipped it on; Bastila noted, even though she didn't want to, that the fabric clung perfectly to his shoulders, accentuating their broad strength. Next, he put on a pair of equally loose, soft black drawstring pants and stopped, turning to look at her. Bastila shifted her features into a bored look as he turned, holding it as his eyes met hers.

"What?" he asked, not annoyed or curt, but not soft either.

"Nothing," Bastila replied acerbically. "I just didn't expect to be assaulted by your stripping."

Revan pursed his lips and stared at her for a moment, his gaze heavy lidded and purposefully weighted. "Your clothes are over there," he said at length, pointing to her "area" of the biosphere.

She didn't bother to thank him as she stood and rummaged through the clothes he had brought for her, finding a grey long sleeve shirt similar to his and grey sweatpants, which she took to the refresher to change into. Reemerging, she glanced around in surprise as she did not see Revan anywhere.

"Revan?" she said hesitantly, finding his disappearance odd.

"Yes?" he called from somewhere in the biosphere – she could tell that much – in a tone that was again between annoyance and regularity.

"I…where are you?" she demanded, now feeling stupid.

Bastila heard him sigh. "If you would take the time to explore this biosphere, you wouldn't lose me in it. Go straight ahead and turn right," he called back, now irritated.

She followed his directions and found him in a small room that was half-hidden, watching the video feed from the holo-recorder again. He had connected it to a computer, and was running it through there to a projector that amplified the picture and cast it a few feet in front of him. Revan was standing, the remote control for the projector in a hand that was raised to his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration as the scenes played out before him. Bastila stepped through the holo-projection quickly so as not to disrupt him too much, and stood beside him. This mystery fascinated her, and she was willing to forget that she hated Revan for the time being if it would mean solving it.

"Has this helped any?" she asked distractedly, her entire focus already on the video feed. Revan smiled from behind his hand. He saw the way her eyes lit up at this, the way she focused so intently on every detail, the purpose it seemed to give her, and his smile resulted because he could relate to her. Any mystery was tantalizing to him and it would nag him until he solved it – so far, Bastila seemed to be the same way. Perhaps this would be the first step in getting her comfortable enough with him to try and mold her thinking. Revan was not sure, but he was willing to try.

"I haven't gotten to anything important yet, I am simply watching the holo-vid and listening to the audio to see if the chunk of time I skipped before might lend any clues," he replied.

"Audio? I don't hear any audio," she said confused.

Revan reached behind him and grabbed a small earpiece from the counter there, switching it on and handing it to her. Bastila held her breath as Revan's fingertips brushed lightly against her own, the contact sending a sizzle of electricity through her entire arm. Sticking the earpiece in her ear quickly – and trying to ignore this new sensation – she was immediately granted sound, and leaned back against a wall, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the projection.

"_Captain, what exactly are we looking for?"_

"_A Jedi artifact. Now shut up."_

The sounds of footsteps crunching in the snow filled Revan's and Bastila's ears for a while, and they both heard the scratching noise that came unexpectedly.

"_What was that?" _someone demanded.

"_Rock shifting? Ice breaking? Who knows. Come on, we need to push. It's going to be night soon, and we have to be back to camp by then."_

Revan shook his head. "Idiot," he muttered underneath his breath. And then he noticed something he had not before. Something moving in the very top of the picture. Quickly pausing the holo-vid, he stepped closer to it and rewound it, playing from a few seconds before the movement. He set it to a slower speed, trying to discern what the whitish blur was, but he could not.

He grunted in frustration. "Well, at least we know it's an animal now. Nothing human crawls in the ceiling…usually."

"I thought next to nothing lived on this planet," Bastila pointed out.

Revan frowned at her showing-up of his limited knowledge. "I said that, yes, but that doesn't mean that some predator hasn't managed to survive this climate. Obviously, one has." Taking the earpiece out of his ear and shutting it off, he turned to Bastila. "I am going to bed."

"I get the feeling I know the answer to this question already, but is there any way I _won't_ have to sleep with you?" Bastila asked while taking out her own earpiece, as she was exhausted as well.

Revan rolled his eyes. "No. You are sleeping in the same bed as I am for one reason: to keep warm," he told her seriously, and she believed him for some reason. She watched as he shut the computer and the holo-vid off and left the small "room" they were in. Bastila followed him and waited until he chose a side of the bed, the right, and she went to the opposite side. She also waited for him to get situated before climbing into the bed herself and sliding beneath the sheets and thick down blanket that he had grabbed, keeping as far away from him as she could.

On her back, Bastila turned her head to the right to look at Revan, and found herself presented with a view of his broad shoulders. Feeling the cold seeping into her body, she wished that she could burrow into those shoulders for warmth and cursed the fact that she couldn't. He was the Dark Lord of the Sith – an evil bastard, and she was wishing she could curl up and snuggle with him? Force…there was something wrong with her. Bastila took this time to examine herself.

Was she attracted to him? There _was_ something wrong with her if she wasn't. The man was darkly handsome, and Bastila had always had a fascination with the darker aspects of life. Was that as far as it went though? She couldn't rightly answer.

"It is going to get much colder," Bastila suddenly heard Revan's smooth, deep voice say. "If you are not warm now," he said as he rolled over onto his back and looked at her, "you will freeze then."

"Well then tell me how I can get warm," she said irritably, knowing what the answer was. "Never mind," she sighed. "How is this going to work?"

Revan thought for a moment, then answered. "I will let you decide."


	4. Chapter 4

Whoo! Not as much of a wait this time, eh? ;) I figured I would post this chapter before I must effing kill myself studying for midterms...which I shall start doing as soon as I click "submit" for this chap. :sigh: Life sucks. Hard. I could go off on a loooong whining rant, but to save your sanity, I won't.

So! Here is the next chapter for "Temptation". It's a little longer than the others so far, but not much action here guys, sorry. There will be next chapter, I promise! Let's see...nothing else that I can think of to explain or ramble on about.

Enjoy!

_

* * *

He's letting me decide? What kind of scheme has he got going in that twisted mind of his?_

Bastila wondered as she stared into Revan's arcane emerald eyes. Wary of his motives and uncertain of how to respond, she rolled to face away from him – needing time to think.

As far as she was concerned, her choices should have been obvious: keep warm with him, or freeze without him. Unfortunately, like many things in her life at the moment, the decision itself was so much more complicated than that. Bastila hated being forced into situations beyond her control, and this was no exception. She couldn't sleep anywhere else, and she couldn't make herself any warmer, since she was cut off from the Force. There were no more blankets that she knew of, and the ones that they had were not keeping her warm. She could always find some more clothes to put on…but would a few layers of thin cotton really help? Bastila already knew the answer to that question. And so her only option was to share body heat with Revan, something that she balked at for a multitude of reasons.

In the short time she had known Revan she had noticed that he never did anything without reason. Everything was meticulously planned and calculated, or organized to test. And in this instance she was certain that this was an inadvertent test of her willpower, her resolve. He had forced her into this situation, and she was not going to stand idly by and give in – her pride would not allow such an indignity. This, however, wasn't her primary concern. She had – after much introspection – finally admitted to herself that she was probably attracted to Revan, and she feared that the physical proximity could put her in a compromising situation. As it was, she wished she could, if nothing else, spend a few hours away from him, just to lessen the effect he seemed to have on her. It was interesting, how much he affected her. It was as if he was underneath her skin, inside of her somehow, knowing exactly what to do to weaken her, to make her angry, to tug on her heartstrings.

Again, the question of exactly _why_ she was attracted to Revan took foreground in her thoughts. Physically, the man was very enticing. He had a muscular, athletic build, handsome features, captivatingly beautiful emerald eyes, and a warrior's grace. Her physical attraction to him was not what baffled her – if she did not think he was physically attractive, _then_ she might have been worried – it was the fact that she was drawn to him mentally as well. As she contemplated this phenomenon – her mental attraction – she realized that it was not as simple as she had originally thought. Through certain actions, and from what she had heard, Bastila knew Revan had once been a very powerful Jedi; as it was, he was an immensely powerful Dark Lord of the Sith, and that kind of power was alluring, no matter _what_ form it came in. His strength seemed to radiate off of him in ripples that she could feel all too palpably, even with her suppressed connection to the Force. And she had to admit, he _was_ rather charismatic. She wanted to believe him whenever he told her something, and he seemed to light a fire within her when he spoke of something he held passion for, ultimately making his passion her own. Regrettably Bastila found herself to be a helpless moth drawn to the flickering, tempting, dangerously seductive flame that was Revan – destined to be consumed if she drew too close.

As Bastila had been thinking, time had passed and the temperature had dropped. Revan was still awake behind her, and she was still indecisive. She wanted desperately to be warm, but she refused to give into him. Her stubbornness would not let her allow him to win so easily. But was it smart to make herself suffer like this, just to show him she was not easily manipulated? She did not know. As of right now, she was cold, _unbearably_ so, and Revan had said that the temperature was going to keep dropping…

Sighing, she burrowed deeper into the bed, pulling the sheets up around her ears to try and conserve some heat, but to no avail. Cold's icy fingers still worked their way through the layers and curled around her, their grip tight and unrelenting. Bastila frowned as she began to shiver, and knew that she could no longer do this on her own. Just as she was about to scoot backwards and closer to Revan, he shot up from the bed, staring at a wall of the biosphere, the light reflecting eerily off his green irises in the murky darkness.

"Revan?" she asked hesitantly, feeling his apprehension.

"Shh," he ordered tersely, silently sliding from the bed and stealing to the wall he had been staring at. He pressed his ear to it and listened for what seemed like a long while, knowing he had heard and sensed something outside of that wall. When the blood pumped from his adrenaline-thrilled heart stopped rushing past his ears, Revan heard the almost imperceptible sound of another being's labored breathing. Reaching out through the Force, he was only somewhat surprised to feel what seemed to be an animal, but with a dark, twisted aura.

"You're taunting me," the Dark Lord murmured. "And that…my friend…is not smart."

A soft growl came through to his ears, and Revan knew that the beast was accepting, relishing even, the challenge he had to offer. The quiet crunch of padded feet on snow faded until Revan could no longer hear it, and he finally stood, turning back to face Bastila.

"It's not safe out there," he told her. "Tomorrow, you will stay with me at all times. I won't have you being eaten as well."

"What did you hear?" Bastila asked, curious. She could tell he had heard something, as his jaw was set and his eyes were hard – a look she had seen on him many times when he had come to a definitive conclusion. Had she taken the time to study her actions, Bastila would have been quite concerned that she was already becoming rather adept at reading Revan's body language – a skill that usually only came through intimate knowledge of the other person.

Revan's eyes locked briefly with hers before darting away, a contemplative mask falling over his features.

"Breathing, a growl, and the sound of padded feet on the snow," he answered, knowing that she was now as much a part of this as he was. He knew that Bastila was brave, much more so than most of his men; for that, he felt compelled to keep her informed now on this situation. Besides, he figured that her sharp, keen mind would prove useful if they encountered any problems while they were here.

His gaze moved back to Bastila and for the first time that night, he really _looked _at her. It struck him that he had never really noticed just how exquisite she truly was until that moment, with her defenses down, cold, wrapped in sheets and a blanket, and looking to him for an answer. Even covered in that thick down blanket, Revan remembered exactly what her figure looked like – slim, almost petite, but athletically built, muscular enough to be attractive and defined, yet with a feminine grace that was undeniably alluring and elegant.

And somehow, he was sharing a bed with her for completely platonic purposes. What cruel, cruel irony Fate was bestowing upon him. She hated him, he couldn't have her, and he was being tempted in the worst way. An entire night with her less than a foot away, and nothing he could do. Honestly do, that is. If he decided to rape her, there was not a thing she could do about it, but Revan was not that kind of evil. Conniving, cruel to a point, cold – yes, all of those, but not evil like that. Rape held no attraction to him – he found it a vile, barbaric way to satiate one's passions.

Bastila saw that his gaze came to rest on her, and that he was staring, but she could tell that his thoughts were mostly elsewhere. Still, his heavy stare was uncomfortable, and she fidgeted beneath it. Rather inconspicuously, and somewhat unconsciously, she scooted over closer to where the bed was still warm from his body now, saving her the trouble of having to do it later when he was lying back down next to her.

"Is it gone now?" she asked finally, after a long pause. His eyes seemed to snap into focus on her and he nodded, again silently walking to his side of the bed and lying back down, sliding beneath the sheets and blanket. If he noticed that she was closer, he did not voice this observation, and for that, Bastila was immensely grateful. She had managed to convince herself that sharing body heat was not a sign of being attracted to him, being weak, or giving in if she was being physically affected by the cold, but she knew her conviction on this was shaky at best.

Revan, for the moment, was lost in his own thoughts. What was it that he was facing? He had never sensed that particular beast before, but he recognized the mark of the Dark side on it, skewing its aura and corrupting it. It was an intelligent creature too, having the capacity to taunt him and lay an open challenge. Revan figured that it was a combination of animals, or a mutation to make a new species somehow that was well fitted enough to survive this harsh climate. And whatever it was had killed and eaten an entire team of men, and now had a taste for human blood. Revan smiled darkly. He couldn't give the beast a sample of pure human blood, but if it wanted to taste the crimson that flowed though his veins, it was welcomed to try.

Concentrating now on the present, he frowned. Bastila was very close to him. When had that happened? Scooting away some, Revan tried to get comfortable but found that he couldn't. He was acutely aware of every move Bastila made – every fidget, every shift, every sigh or grunt of discontentment…

This was driving him insane. Revan had never had to _only_ share a bed with a woman before, and he was not enjoying it in the least. He glanced over at her and saw that her back was to him and she was perhaps a fraction of an inch closer than before – likely just a result of him depressing the mattress when he had lain back down. Still, even that fraction of an inch was noticeable to him.

Revan found it impossible to sleep, let alone get near comfortable. She moved her leg and he felt it; she buried her head further into the pillow, and he perceived the shift. Sighing, he fidgeted for a while, restlessly. Simply the knowledge that she was going to be next to him for an entire night was gnawing at him relentlessly, and he could not figure out why. Did he care if she was comfortable? Was he concerned about keeping her up? Did he care if she was warm? Was he worried about what she thought? Revan's immediate answers to all of these questions were no, but he was not convinced that he was being truthful with himself. It wasn't as if he _wanted _her to loathe him, but it wasn't as if he longed for her to approve of him either. Did he?

Grunting, he rolled over and faced his back to hers. Why was she making him question himself so much? This wasn't that awkward of a situation, in all reality. It was deathly cold, they needed to keep warm, and so they were sharing a bed. She did not like him, and he was indifferent to her. So what was his problem? Revan found that though he may not have harbored any true affection for her yet, he was very much intrigued by her. And he did not have to particularly feel anything _for_ her to be attracted _to_ her. She was a beautiful and complex woman, and Revan loved challenges.

Having heard or felt nothing from Bastila in a good while, Revan rolled over on his back and looked at her, finding, to his surprise, that she was finally asleep. Feeling relief at this, though he did not know why, the perplexed Dark Lord soon drifted off into a deep but not entirely restful slumber that was filled with incoherent fragments of dreams, thoughts, nightmares and fears.

Hours later, Revan awoke rather groggily, feeling, if possible, even more exhausted upon waking. The realization that his left arm was numb hit him, and he frowned, his eyes still closed. Out of habit, he tried to roll over and get up, but found that his left arm and left leg were pinned, and in his groggy state, he became quickly alarmed and confused. Jolting his consciousness roughly out of the soft caress of slumber, Revan snapped his eyes open to have them met with a view he had never expected to see.

Bastila was tangled comfortably with him, and it was her body that was keeping him from rolling over. He was facing her, and she was curled up against his body, her breasts pressing gently against his chest. She was using his left shoulder as a pillow, which explained the prickling numbness, and her left leg was threaded through his. Somehow, during the night, his right hand had found a home on the curve of her hip, while gentle pressure on the side of his stomach alerted him to the presence of her left hand; the other lay flat between them.

Bastila shifted lightly in her sleep, and Revan sucked in a breath through his teeth as her knee grazed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.

He hoped that she would not wake up; morning was already a dangerous time for him, and after Bastila's inadvertent teasing Revan felt he would need some time to get back complete control of his body. But, despite the awkwardness of the situation, Revan found Bastila's presence quite comforting.

Her body was soft and supple against his, her breathing slow, deep and rhythmic, and her warmth and comfort soothing. As he gazed down at her peacefully sleeping form, her face calm and serene, unmarred by her animosity towards him, Revan found that a tendril of protectiveness was coiling up in his gut. Again, she looked so untainted by the corruption and darkness that infected him, and so vulnerable like this in his arms that Revan could not help the instinctual urge to be her defender and guardian; it was in his blood. Letting a small smile play across his lips that upturned the corners of his mouth, he let himself relax – truly relax – for the first time in a few years.

Had he been missing this all of this time? What a fool he had been to shun something like what he was experiencing now. But, he reasoned, there was no emotional connection with those other women. Nothing would make him feel as protective, as…intrigued by someone as Bastila was currently making him feel. Revan knew that nothing pure like what he was feeling now could come from an encounter as mired in lust as those nights were. Why did he sleep with those women? What possessed him to say yes to their offers? Physically, it was a gratifying experience, but Revan always felt it left him empty afterwards – it did not fill the void inside, rather, it made the hollowness ache more intensely. No…he supposed that for those few moments, he felt validated in some way. He could give whatever woman he was with a great amount of pleasure, and they let him know that he was skilled in doing so.

But since when had he needed validation? He had an ideal to live for, a goal to achieve, that was all. Sex felt good, and women were willing to have it with him. Why not partake in it? It did not benefit him to say no, and it at least occupied him to say yes; the choice of which answer to give was obvious in his eyes. Needing others was a weakness that Revan had never had problems with, and he wasn't about to start having issues with it now.

Sighing softly, he made sure that Bastila was still asleep and then began to gently extricate himself from her body. He did not particularly wish to get up, but life and his job demanded otherwise, and he was not one to lie around when there was work to be done.

* * *

Bastila had been awakened by his gentle movement, but was still half-asleep, and she lay there in his arms for a while, not entirely registering her surroundings. She knew she was warm, comfortable, and that she felt very safe, but she did not know why. The pillow that her head was resting on was firm but comfortable, and she was snuggled against something strong but yielding, like a warm wall of soft steel. As he continued to slowly pull away from her, Bastila's senses returned to her one by one, and by the time he quietly rolled away from her, she'd realized the source of that comforting warmth. Keeping her eyes closed and her breathing normal, she attempted to remain "asleep" until it was safe to "awaken", and thankfully, Revan did not pay too close a heed to her. She heard him rummage through something, a door open and shut, and then the sound of running water.

Figuring that it was now the proper time to rouse herself, Bastila opened her eyes but found that she did not have the willpower to sit up. The area he had been occupying was still warm, just like the night before, and she did not relish relinquishing what little warmth she managed to gain. Taking the moment to reflect, Bastila wondered how she had gotten into Revan's arms like that, and wondered if it was her doing, his, or both of theirs during the night. He did not seem like a man to initiate such an intimate embrace as they had shared, and so Bastila picked the last option, correctly reasoning that it was most likely they had both simply come together during the coldest part of the night to stay warm.

Finally, the realization that she had been in the Dark Lord of the Sith's arms hit her – hard – and she sat up quickly. Bastila berated herself for feeling content at all in such a position, but she grimaced as the cold again took possession of her body, chilling her to the very core. Why did Revan have to be the only means of keeping herself warm? What kind of cruel test was this? Sighing and shaking her head, Bastila pulled her legs up close to her torso, wrapped the sheets and down blanket as tightly around herself as she could, and prayed that he would be out of the shower soon.

* * *

Revan washed himself in lukewarm water while contemplating the night's events in his mind. The encounter with the unknown beast was still perplexing but that was not what occupied his thoughts at the moment. No; his mind and body were still fixated on his and Bastila's position upon awakening. Revan was not used to comfort such as he had just experienced, to such a pleasantly content feeling, and he was still struggling to comprehend the sensation.

Even though moments ago he had just been in a calm, content setting, Revan felt physically and emotionally stressed as he stood beneath the stream of water mulling everything over. Perhaps it was because of the inadvertent sexual tease Bastila had performed, maybe the deaths of his team members and the taunt of the creature that killed them was getting to him…maybe both – he did not know. What he did know was that his body was still thrumming with pent-up energy from Bastila's brush against his leg and that he needed to find a way to get rid of that energy as quickly as possible.

Yet again, a problem presented itself: he was aroused, yes, but not fully so – in a state of arousal limbo, more precisely. It was the morning, and she had teased him, but his body still had not facilitated the singular focus that he required to perform and gain release from a sexual act. He could fix the problem in that manner, but the peak he would achieve would do nothing for him other than further drain his physical energy. The emotional relief would not be attainable in the state he was in. And so, his other option was to stand beneath this stream of water until he calmed sufficiently to function.

He had already washed himself and now it was simply a waiting game until his body decided to cooperate with him. Revan forced himself into a calm, meditative state and closed his eyes as the water ran over his body, envisioning the water carrying away his tension as it washed down. The visualization and meditation did not help so much as they distracted him from the source of his arousal allowed him to concentrate on other things. When his body was once again under his control, he chose to get out of the shower; he shut off the water and grabbed a towel, drying himself off swiftly to avoid freezing. It hurt enough to be dry and cold, let alone _wet_ and cold. Slipping into his undergarments, he brushed his teeth quickly and gave his reflection a cursory inspection, finding all satisfactory. He looked tired, but when did he not? The energy of life had long since died within him, and he had ceased missing its vibrancy in his features. Revan exited the refresher and was somewhat surprised to see Bastila still in bed, curled tightly in a ball in the spot where he had once been laying.

_Why is she _there?he wondered. _Warmth, right – idiot_, he berated himself. His thoughts were muddled, like he was still half asleep, or clinging to the notion. What the hell was wrong with him? As he watched Bastila lay there an idea struck him, though he found it highly implausible, and he walked over to the bed. Revan stood above the female Jedi and stared down at her for a while, observing the rise and fall of her breathing, determining that she had indeed somehow fallen asleep again. Closing his eyes and pursing his lips for a moment in annoyance, Revan composed himself and gently laid a hand on her left shoulder, his palm and fingers engulfing her entire joint and part of her upper arm. He shook softly, his mouth falling into a frown as she did not awake; shaking a bit harder this time, he called her name.

"Bastila…get up."

Her pretty face scrunched in a grimace and she tried to pull away from him, burying her head in the sheets and half of a pillow. With a grunt, Revan grasped the sheets and ripped them from her body, exposing her to the cold in a very harsh manner. Bastila groaned and shivered as she sat up, giving him the most lethal, murderous glare he had seen from her yet.

"Bastard…" she mumbled as she scrambled from the bed, her movements sluggish from being roughly awakened. Bastila noticed with distaste that he was somehow only in his undergarments again, and she mused that she would soon be able to tell exactly what every single part of him looked like if they continued on like this for much longer. She frowned at the thought, closed her eyes, and shook her head to dislodge the offending mental image, concentrating on the present.

"Must you always be half naked?" she grumbled, rubbing her face and yawning. Her grey eyes searched out the biosphere for Revan and she was surprised to see that he had already donned his thermal suit and was fastening his light armor together.

"That was fast," she remarked as his intense green eyes met hers. His gaze held something she had not seen before, and it unnerved her to a degree. She somehow recognized the clouded shadow that tinted his eyes as confusion, and wondered what he was perplexed about.

"I don't like to waste time," he remarked, not really listening to her. As he had suspected, his thoughts had cleared as soon as she had awakened. But how had her being asleep affected his mind? And more importantly, _why_? The answer hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut, and he turned away so she would not see him blanch.

_No…that can't be possible. I must test this…I can't jump to any conclusions. This is the Force I'm dealing with, and unexplainable things are quite feasible. Still…Occam's razor – the simplest explanation is most often correct. _

Revan was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not notice Bastila get up and move in front of him, nor did he notice her peering up at him with a look that suggested she thought he was slightly insane. He started as he felt her light touch on the back of his hand and jerked his hand roughly away from hers.

"Are you all right? I called your name but you just stood there with a glazed look on your face," Bastila said somewhat irritably, but with a hint of concern that surprised him.

"Yes, I'm fine," he replied, his tone sounding much more tired than he intended. Revan had not meant for his exhaustion and weariness to seep into his voice; not wanting her to ask about that as well, he attempted to change the subject. "I've decided to outfit you with light armor as well, since we have a predator on the loose."

He moved around her and opened a small plasteel cylinder, pulling out a suit of white-colored light armor that was similar in design to his suit. Bastila looked at it for a moment before taking it from his outstretched hand.

"And this will protect me…how?" she asked incredulously, finding the material mostly fabric. Her eyes flicked back to him and she saw that he was glaring at her, and rather heavily at that. The corner of his mouth was in the beginning of a snarl and his eyes were very narrow, making them seem darker in color, more menacing.

"I designed this myself, and if I say it will protect you, it will protect you," Revan snapped. Did she think he was stupid? Would he honestly give her "armor" that wouldn't protect from anything more than a strong breeze? "This is reinforced cortosis-weave fabric, and it will protect you from a lightsaber shoved against it for a solid thirty seconds – a minute, if the same spot is not stressed the entire time. I tested it myself."

"Well how was I supposed to know that?" Bastila snapped right back, now feeling slightly stupid for questioning him. She knew that he was not brainless – he would not give her armor that wouldn't keep her from harm; that would be completely counter-productive to his own needs.

"You weren't but you could show a little…" Revan was about to say 'faith in me' but thought better of it. "Just put it on," he ordered, turning away from her and finishing with his own armor.

She raised an eyebrow at his strange behavior, but said nothing. As Bastila removed the loose clothing she was wearing over her thermal undergarments, she remembered the utter exhaustion that had tinged his voice a few minutes ago and wondered how long he had been hiding that from her. He was very good at hiding things, she knew that already, but she also knew that she could read him better than most other people. Exactly _why_ she could read him better than others was a mystery to her, and one that perplexed her to no end. It wasn't as if she studied him…did she? Pushing that thought away for now, she slipped into the suit of armor he had given her and fastened it up. It was a snug fit, but it allowed her easy movement and relative comfort, and she was grateful for it. Anything to make her feel safer was welcome, as she still felt vulnerable with the Force suppression collar snapped firmly around her neck.

When she turned back around, Revan was fully outfitted in his armor and weapons, but with no facemask. She was about to ask why, but remembered what had happened with her last question and wisely stayed silent. That, and he was rummaging around for something, and Bastila had nothing better to do but watch him hunt. Finally, after a few minutes of his fruitless search, she piped up.

"What are you looking for?"

His annoyed emerald gaze fell on her, but she could distinctly tell that his annoyance was directed at something other than her. "I am trying to find edible food for us."

Something as normal as trying to find food just seemed…kind, coming from him. Bastila had assumed Revan would be the type to tell her to fend for herself while he ate a plate of Kommerkan steak.

"Oh." She got up and walked over to where he was – in the kitchen area – and knelt down, opening another plasteel cylinder. "Is this it?"

He glanced down and frowned. "Yes." Leaning over, he now pawed through the packages of food, looking for something that was not liable to come back up a few hours after consumption.

Bastila raised an eyebrow at him. "No 'thank you'? How rude," she said in a mock-offended manner, just to exasperate him.

Revan closed his eyes and inhaled a deep, slow breath. "Continue to annoy me and you won't eat. Now, what do you want? Pick one," he said brusquely.

Giving him a subdued glare she looked between the packets of food and was surprised at the variety. Some of the stuff was actually good…and so she picked what looked the most appetizing. Revan grabbed her packet of food and his and took them to the machine that would prepare the food for them. In truth, it was simply a glorified heater, but the food just seemed to taste better than when placed in a conventional microwave.

As he waited for the food to heat, Revan ran a hand through his messy dark hair, sighing. A headache was already pounding at the base of his skull, and he wanted to plasma-seal Bastila's mouth shut, not to mention find some real release for the hell she had put him through this morning.

Bastila, who was leaning against the wall, saw all of this with a perceptive gaze. His shoulders slumped as he ran his hand through his hair and sighed, and his face was the picture of an exhausted man stretched to his limits. He looked pained and uncomfortable, though she did not know why; her compassionate nature compelled her to ease his suffering, but again, her rational side told her to let him be, that he deserved whatever hell he was being tormented in.

Without really thinking, she spoke. "Revan…"

He looked up from staring at the floor, and she found herself staring into his intense, arcane emerald irises. They really were captivating, his eyes. Such a profound, vibrant shade of green; the unfathomable depth that they conveyed; the darkness that swirled within them; the fire that seemed to burn there, smoldering evermore for her to see…

It made her want to taste what he had, to see why that fire burned in his green eyes, tempting her.

Something in her tone differed from before, and Revan could tell that a weighty matter was on her mind. "Yes…?" he asked at length, his voice hitting that eerie place between normal and annoyed.

Bastila had come to realize that when she received this tone of voice, it was a good sign – it meant that he was in a conversational mood; when that mood came and how long it would last, however, she never knew. It hit her that she had no idea what to say, and she panicked for a moment.

"Do you have any idea what kind of animal is out there?" she asked when something finally came to her.

He shook his head. "No, I don't. I've never sensed an animal like that before, and my best guess is that it's either a hybrid or a mutation, though perhaps it could simply be a species I have never encountered before."

"Did it really eat all of the men in that team?"

Revan's eyes met her grey ones again and he held their gaze for a moment before speaking. "I can't tell you for sure. It is possible that it ate every single man, as the holo-vid suggests, but it is also possible that it ate one or two, and simply killed the rest and dragged them off to wherever its lair is."

"What are our odds of survival?" Bastila asked, processing all of this information and realizing for the first time that she could die out here.

Revan sensed this, and he felt the urge to assuage her fears, though he did not let it show. He was confused – since when did he feel the need to comfort someone? Revan reminded himself that he knew what it was like to face death when not ready for it, and how traumatizing of an experience it was; he had seen it firsthand during the Mandalorian Wars, and watched as brave men broke down and sobbed in the face of that cruel spectre Death, begging for it to either come quickly or pass its judgment on some other poor soul. He had seen men who deserved to live a long and happy life die brutal deaths on the battlefield, and he had seen men who deserved nothing more than the most hideous end live on to corrupt others. And he had been one of those men, one of those deserving to die, and yet he had lived…all because of the woman standing before him. As he thought about it, he owed her everything he had at the moment, and that thought scared him.

Revan had never had to depend on anyone, or owe anyone anything – yet now he was eternally indebted to a young, idealistic Jedi woman all because she had, in a fit of compassion-induced insanity, saved his hellish excuse for a life. Revan had a strong sense of decorum, and though he was Dark Lord of the Sith, he did not forget those who aided him; Bastila had saved his life, and the least he could do in recompense was to protect as he best he could while she was his charge.

"You are in my care – your chances of survival are high," he said with certainty.

Bastila noted the time he seemed to take pondering her question, and the conviction in his voice surprised her. She noticed now that his eyes were firm, glittering hard – he had made a decision that she was going to live, and nothing could change that. Bastila suddenly felt very safe upon seeing that Revan had come to a definitive conclusion that her life was worth protecting and she knew that it would take an incredible force to keep him from ensuring her safety.

"And will you protect me? Can you do that?" she asked, not meaning to question his sincerity, but needing to know these answers.

Revan kept his eyes on hers. "Yes, I will protect you," he answered, somewhat avoiding her last question but still giving an answer to both with his affirmative.

"What if you aren't there? How then can I protect myself? I have no weapon," Bastila told him.

"If I am not there then you will already be dead," he answered gravely. Still, she did have a point, and he handed her a retractable vibroblade that was clipped to his belt. "Here. You would be a danger to yourself if I gave you your lightsaber back – your connection to the Force is too dampened," he said upon seeing that she was about to protest. "If we have time, I can teach you to use a lightsaber without the Force."

Bastila gave him an utterly confused look. "You would teach me how to wield a lightsaber without the Force? Why? How does that benefit you?"

"It means I have another soldier, a _better_ soldier," Revan replied. "It also means I'll have to worry about you less since you will be more able to protect yourself. Why? Because it is a useful skill to have, and it will benefit me in the ways I have already mentioned." He did not tell her that it was also a way to gain her trust more easily and break down her defenses. Revan relied on the subtle manipulations with her – the blatant ones did not work. She was too perceptive, too stubborn and too strong for those. The machine that was warming their food beeped, interrupting their – for the circumstances and situation – rather deep conversation.

Revan retrieved their food and set it down on the small table that was a few feet away, pulling Bastila's chair out for her as he walked around to his seat. Bastila noted this and again felt that her picture of Revan was terribly skewed; everything he did seemed to contradict what she had been told to believe about him.

"No 'thank you'? How rude," he said with a smirk as he took a bite of his food and looked across the table at her, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Bastila rolled her eyes. "Very clever."

Suddenly, he switched subjects on her and became serious again. "You need more complex carbs than are in that meal. You'll be famished in two hours. Here…" he trailed, getting up and rummaging through a duffel bag and pulling out two small packages. "This one is protein, and this one will make up for the carbs."

Bastila took the packages from his hand, one of them slipping from her grip in the process. With an incredible speed that shocked her, Revan snatched the package up before it hit the ground, handing it to her again.

"That was fast," she commented, like earlier, as she took it for the second time.

"Reflex," he replied shortly, though not curtly.

"How fast can you move?"

"Fast enough."

Bastila frowned. That wasn't the answer she wanted. Why did he always have to be so cryptic? "Fast enough for what?"

Revan's eyes slid to her. "Fast enough to avoid getting killed. Hurry up and eat that; we need to get moving."

Bastila proceeded to eat the packaged energy bars at her own pace, defying his wishes. By the time she was done, he had thrown away his food package and was fixing his facemask on his head. She disposed of her trash and copied him, fixing her own facemask on her head, then grabbing her goggles, gloves, and boots and putting them on as well. She retrieved her vibroblade last, hooking it onto her belt and turning to find Revan standing by the door, arms crossed over his white armored chest, waiting. His eyes showed indifference mixed with displeasure before he pulled his goggles down and removed his emerald irises from her sight. Again, she copied him and pulled her goggles down, preparing herself for the cold.

Revan opened the biosphere door and stepped out into the dangerously cold atmosphere, feeling the thrill of being _alive_ as the absence of heat hit him hard, setting his body shivering until the thermal suit and his internal temperature could adjust. It occurred to him then that the reason Bastila was so cold before might have been because she had not realized the thermal suit's temperature regulation unit had to be manually turned on.

"Have you turned on your temperature regulation unit?" he asked, turning to her, his voice somewhat muffled by the facemask, his breath sending a cloud of smoky vapor into the icy air.

"My what?" her accented voice rejoined.

"Obviously not then…hold still." Revan grabbed the front of her armor and, though his hands were gloved, deftly undid all the clasps and shoved the garment aside.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she screeched at him, smacking his hands away and backing up.

"I am turning on your temperature regulation unit so you don't _die_!" he snapped. "Now come back here."

"Is there any way you can just _tell_ me where it is so I can turn it on without getting groped by you?" she demanded.

He felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. "If you just let me do it, it will be faster. And I am not _trying_ to grope you, but you squirm. The switch isn't even near your chest."

Before she could protest further, his hands were near her neck, and he grabbed her thermal suit, unzipping it down to about her collarbone. Pulling aside the fabric with one hand and holding her in place with the other, he pressed a small spot with a red dot on it, and she felt something pulse through the suit as she still tried to squirm away. He zipped it back up and avoided touching her again as he did this.

"See? That would've taken all of a minute if you would've just listened to me," Revan told her already walking away.

"Well what would you do if I suddenly told you to hold still and then reached for your pants?" Bastila shot back sullenly, refastening her armor and trying to get herself warm again.

"I wouldn't move, as you obviously want something on, near, or in my pants. However, I would watch you to make sure you weren't trying to castrate me. It is as simple as that. Observe, then act. Less consequences that way," Revan replied without looking at her.

"You are insufferable," she groaned. "Where are we going anyway?"

"Malak's biosphere."

"Lovely," she muttered. If there was one person she did not want to meet, it was Darth Malak. While she had heard stories of Revan's cruelty, the stories she had heard of Malak's brutality were worse, and much more believable. And as of yet, she had no evidence to back up any of the truly horrific claims against Revan – only the small, obvious ones. She had a sinking feeling that she would easily be able to prove Malak's barbarism, however.

They reached Malak's biosphere and entered it, finding the exceptionally tall man inside, his focus on a data pad in his hand. He raised his marred visage at their entrance and his brown eyes showed some surprise at finding his master inside with the Jedi prisoner at his side.

So this was who Revan's 'guest' was in his biosphere? _Revan must be enjoying himself_, Malak thought, half-sarcastically and half-seriously. He had heard of her stubborn attitude and fiery temper already, and the apprentice knew that Revan did not have much patience with things like that. However, from what he could see, she at least had an enticing figure; as Bastila pulled her facemask down to reveal her features, Malak's suspicion was confirmed: she had an amazing body, _and_ she was remarkably beautiful. Not letting his thoughts drift to what he would like to do with her in fear of Revan's wrath, Malak forced himself to keep his attention on his master.

"Master," he said with practiced respect. "And who is this?"

Revan's mouth curled into a snarl behind the facemask, and he struggled to force a disinterested expression on his face as he slowly removed the mask. "Bastila Shan, my Jedi prisoner," he answered curtly, seeing the way Malak's eyes roved over her like she was nothing more than a pleasure-slave.

Malak gave her a short nod. "I am– "

"Darth Malak," Bastila interrupted coldly. She had felt all too palpably the disfigured apprentice's gaze boring into her, inspecting her with the same relish one would inspect a luscious dessert about to be devoured.

"What is this?" Revan interjected, taking the data pad from Malak's hand.

"Daily reports from yesterday. Nothing interesting – I've read it three times," Malak answered, only somewhat picking up on his master's irritation.

Revan scanned the data pad and found that Malak was right. "Good. No more teams eaten since three days ago. Either the animal is full, or we have not given him any more prey." He paused, setting the data pad down and giving Malak a look that indicated he would take no questioning. "And to make sure that the second option is not the case, you and I will be leading a team on an expedition today."

Malak stared at his master and Bastila gained a wary expression. She was about to voice displeasure, but was cut off. "And where will we be going, Master?" the taller man asked. "There is a lot of desolate, snow-covered expanse out there."

Revan gave a half-glare to his apprentice. "We are going to the same spot where our team disappeared. We'll try there first, and see what happens – it is our best lead right now."

Bastila was about to protest putting themselves in needless danger, but the conversation that she and Revan had in the biosphere returned to her mind. Revan had promised to protect her, but she wondered if he would do the same for his soldiers. She had the distinct feeling he would not.

"I want you to call together these men," Revan told Malak, handing the taller man the data pad back, "and have the team assembled in two hours. I'll return then."

Turning, Revan motioned for Bastila to leave ahead of him. She exited the biosphere with Revan close behind her – so close, in fact, that she could feel him invading her personal space, like an invisible pressure on her back. He kept this distance, or lack thereof, until they were safely within Revan's biosphere again. As he pulled off his goggles, Bastila saw the anger that simmered in his green depths.

"What's wrong?" she asked half-curiously as she removed her goggles and her facemask.

When he glanced at her now, the anger was locked away and his eyes betrayed naught. "Nothing's wrong, my apprentice just annoys me," Revan said, telling her the truth, but not telling her why. "And why does it matter to you if something is wrong?"

Bastila stared at him for a few seconds, seeing that he was being serious and not taunting. "Because if you are angry, I suffer. I would like to keep that to a minimum," she told him truthfully, but like Revan, not telling the whole truth.

"Ah." He knew that she was lying; it wasn't that she was a terrible liar, it was that she had no way to mask her deception from him now that the suppression collar was blocking her connection to the Force . So, Revan could always tell when there was more to her words than she gave, though he had never taken the time to probe her mind and find out just what she never told him. It didn't concern him enough to put focus on it, and so he didn't. "You're lying," he told her, not pushing it any further but finding it prudent to let her know that he was able to detect her deception.

A faint blush colored her cheeks. "I don't have to tell you everything," she replied rather calmly.

"No, but I can find out either way – if you tell me of your own free will or not."

"If you are that interested in what goes on in my mind every waking moment, then you are obviously an obsessive borderline psychotic."

The corners of Revan's mouth curled into a dark smile that made Bastila hold her breath involuntarily. Why was everything he did so…sensual? "It would be easier if I was an 'obsessive borderline psychotic', because then I would know what to fix," he replied, the enticing grin never leaving his face.

Bastila reminded herself then to breathe, and her brows furrowed in confusion at his answer. "Do you think there's something wrong with you?"

Revan gave a breathy snort, his smile fading now. "Of course there's something wrong with me! You don't get to be the Dark Lord of the Sith by being a perfectly normal man. It's the defective ones that either perish because of their defect, or manipulate their fault to do great or terrible deeds that are forever remembered. The greatest heroes are only heroes because they mastered their weaknesses, their imperfections. The greatest villains do the same, only they embrace their flaws and make them part of their strength. Of course, throughout history, all of the villains have never managed to truly overcome their weaknesses and make themselves invulnerable – but then again, the same can be said for the vaunted heroes; and we cannot achieve perfection, can we? But such is the Force and its need for balance. Fate works as it will, and we are merely pawns in its game. The quicker that everyone accepts that, the better off we will all be."

Revan's eyes held the fire that always ignited within them when he spoke on something he held strong convictions for, and Bastila found herself slipping into those flames while his deep, smooth voice caressed her as he talked.

"Everyone always believes that the time they live in is the greatest and most important in the galaxy, and to a degree, that is true. The time that they live in is the greatest and most important at that moment in the fabric of time's tapestry – but ten years down the road, someone will do something greater. There is always someone better out there, no matter if you find them or not. So what I am doing now is important – but it is only important _now_. A century from now, my actions may still have an impact, but someone will be doing greater things than whatever I managed to achieve. That is why you live for every moment – because that is the only moment that matters. The past is done and the future is yet to be determined, but that moment, the moment you are in, you can shape it to how you want it to be." He paused. "But I digressed somewhere along there."

Bastila found that she had no words after his impassioned speech, and so she did the only thing she could do: she stared at him, eyes slightly wide, mouth barely agape. The thing that left her speechless and shocked was that she felt he was right. She, a Jedi, was agreeing with the Dark Lord of the Sith; the most evil man in the galaxy was convincing her of something – there was a fundamental flaw somewhere in this situation…

Revan, meanwhile, was watching her. He noticed the slight widening of her eyes, making her grey irises appear more prominent against the whites of her eyes and her pupils smaller. The slight part of her full lips drew his gaze and his thoughts flitted to what it would feel like to kiss them, to feel his lips against hers, to find out if they were as soft as they looked; with a rough blink, he brought his thoughts out of this track and returned them to the present.

"Didn't think I could argue for something so plausible, did you?" Revan asked her, his voice lacking the usual bite it held when he was being sarcastic.

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "It's not that. I know that you are not an idiot, Revan. You would not be where you are if you were a fool. I just never thought…I never thought you _would_ be arguing for something plausible."

Revan cocked his head to the side a moment, pondering her words, and she cursed his habit – it was a strangely dark, maliciously intelligent, yet disarming mannerism that she found charming. "I see. You figured I would be the type to rant about insanely impossible ideals, am I right?" She nodded, somewhat hesitantly. "Understandable. I am not portrayed in the best of lights to the galactic public. I take it you think my proposition to you for your aid in my war is one of those 'insanely impossible ideals'?"

Bastila was caught off guard by his question. He had not brought this up for a long time, so why now? Pushing that suspicion aside for the moment, she answered him. "Yes, I think that asking me to help you commit mass-murder is an insane request."

"But that's not what I am asking you," Revan countered. "I am asking you to help boost my troops' morale, nothing more. What they do is none of your concern, nor your responsibility."

She opened her mouth to respond but found she had nothing to say for the second time in as many minutes. How did he do it, make things sound so feasible? "Yes, that may be true, but I am still aiding a Sith and that goes against everything I have ever been taught to believe."

"Perhaps those who taught you were wrong," Revan proffered with a half-shrug.

Bastila became resolute. "No, they were not wrong."

"Are you absolutely certain? Even the best of people can be misled, though they have the purest of intentions."

From the way he spoke, Bastila knew there was a hidden meaning behind his words and she tried to see what it was. Was he referring to himself? Or someone he knew? Both? Revan was so cryptic she figured that she would never know unless he told her, and the odds of her getting the information out of him sooner than he wanted to divulge it were not in her favor at all. Still…he was so mysterious, and her natural inclination to be curious so strong that his shroud of silence about himself was driving her mad.

"Do you mind personal questions?" she asked, somewhat randomly.

Revan raised an eyebrow at her. "No," he replied, "but that doesn't mean I'll answer them."

"Fair enough." She paused. "Were you referring to yourself just now?"

"With my comment about people being misled?" Bastila nodded. "What do you think?" he asked her.

Bastila stayed silent for a while, thinking it was a rhetorical question. When he raised both eyebrows at her in impatience, she realized he had actually wanted an answer. "What do I think? I think that yes, you were referring to yourself."

"And why do you think that?"

"Because I know your general history, just like everyone else. I know that you entered the war wishing to do nothing more than aid the Republic, yet by the end of the conflict, you were already on the path to becoming the Sith Lord you are now," Bastila replied.

"I will give you credit, you are more intelligent than most."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" she demanded irately.

Revan gave her an even, calm gaze that cooled her anger somewhat. He was still being serious. "It means just what I said – that you are more intelligent than most other people. I will remember in the future to refrain from compliments on your abilities or mental prowess."

Bastila's cheeks burned. "I thought you were being sarcastic," she mumbled. She realized then that he had never really answered her question, but had formulated his responses in such a way that led her to the answer, but of her own reasoning and conclusions.

"Anything else you wish to know about me?" Revan asked, the very slight discomfort he felt at being interrogated by her masked by his calm.

"I…nothing else at the moment – or at least nothing that I can think of that you will answer," Bastila told him.

Revan gave a short, breathy snort as he stood up. "I might surprise you. Do not hesitate to ask questions – they are the mark of a keen, sharp mind and they show a healthy propensity for curiosity. Just don't expect me to answer all of them, especially if they are personal in nature."

Bastila was surprised even with the civil manner he was answering her questions and treating her right now, and she simply nodded at his latest answer. She glanced at the clock that was near Revan and spoke again.

"What time are we leaving?"

He glanced behind himself and saw the time. "Not for another hour and forty-five minutes." Revan had removed his gloves from his hands, and Bastila again noticed the intricate tattoo work that marked his skin.

"So you got that after the Mandalorian Wars?" she asked, attempting somewhat awkwardly to make conversation. She hated tense silences.

"Yes."

Bastila frowned. "Why?" she pressed.

He looked at her with an expression that conveyed his weary patience of her questions. "Because of something I did, it was given to me as a symbol, along with the one on my left side. They were a more primitive people."

"Oh." Bastila hesitated, wondering if she should ask her next question. She was fascinated by the ink, and wanted to inspect it more closely but she did not know how he would interpret that request.

"You're staring at my hand."

Her eyes snapped up to his face and her mouth hung open for a split second as she realized he was right. "Sorry, I was looking at the tattoo and then I…well, spaced out."

"Yes, I saw that."

Bastila continued speaking to try and hide her embarrassment. "Well what would you like me to do? I am utterly bored…we have nearly an hour and a half more to wait around before throwing ourselves into undue peril."

"Undue peril?" Revan repeated, interested in what she meant by this.

"Yes, undue peril. We are going to the very place where a number of men have already died, just to see if the creature is there? Why not send droids?"

Revan was about to tell her why not when an idea struck him. "If I sent a droid down there ahead of us, would it make you shut up about this?"

Bastila glowered at him. "Yes," she said crossly.

"Then I am sending a droid."


	5. Chapter 5

Whoo! School's cancelled tomorrow! Hell yeah! And to celebrate, here's a new chapter! Not a whole lot of action, but I kept my promise - there is some. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Revan grabbed his gloves again and slipped them back onto his hands, affixing his facemask over his nose and mouth. Bastila watched him do this with some confusion.

"Where are you going?"

"To get the droid," came his muffled reply.

"Am I supposed to stay here?" she asked, feeling stupid for doing so, but deciding it was best to inquire anyway.

"I'll only be gone for a few minutes. So yes, stay here unless you want to come with me. I have never made to dictate where you can and cannot go, Bastila, and I do not plan to start now," Revan told her, pausing at the doorway.

"No, you never have," she agreed, gratitude apparent in her voice. "I suppose I'll just stay here…"

Revan gave her a short nod, noting the unease that had settled around her. "I'll lock the door," he told her with a surprisingly gentle tone. "You have a vibroblade, and you have your brain. You're a smart woman – you'll be just fine if anything happens…which it won't. No one will come through this door except me, I promise. Don't go out, and don't let anyone in. You'll know if it's me."

The door slid open then and a blast of icy air swirled into the biosphere as Revan exited. A small vortex of snow churned behind his tall, imposing figure before the door slid shut again and Bastila heard the distinct sound of the locking mechanism engaging. She let out a frustrated sigh and sat roughly down on the edge of the bed, berating herself heavily. It was obvious that Revan could tell she did not want to be alone, and that bothered her. He didn't need to know that she did not feel safe unless he was around; he didn't need to know that she feared being left alone on this desolate planet; and most importantly, he didn't need to know that she _wanted_ him around – for safety, of course.

Flopping backwards onto the rather soft mattress, she let her thoughts wander where they wished as she stared up at the ceiling. It came as no surprise to her that they focused on Revan, and she had long ago given up trying _not_ to think of him. Her train of thought returned to the absence of his…not 'comforting', but…

Bastila blinked as she found she could not think of another word to describe his presence. Did she really find comfort in him being around? She felt safe, yes, but that was because he had promised to protect her. Feeling safe around someone was similar to feeling comfort from their presence, she told herself. She was probably just confusing the two. But the more she thought about it, the more she felt the two were different – at least enough to be distinguishable from each other.

She felt safe around him because she could feel his strength, his power that was unmatched by anyone else, and she felt comforted by that strength because he had promised to use it to protect her. But did she feel comfort from Revan, or just from the protection he offered? Bastila admitted that he wasn't so bad to be around; he didn't have a very…approachable air, but there was something that pulled her to him and made her _want_ to be near Revan.

Groaning, Bastila covered her face with her hands. This man was managing to make her feel everything she had never wanted to feel about him. She had wanted to be able to hate him, to be able to see his evil and reject it, to reject _him_…but she could not. Bastila found it nearly impossible to discern the evil in him. He was cold, somewhat callous, and harshly objective, but not _evil_ to her. Revan could not be evil and promise to keep her safe. It just wasn't possible.

Forcing her mind to drop this subject for now, she concentrated on Revan as a man – his personality, his habits, the things that made him unique. From what she could glean by his actions, Bastila surmised that Revan respected the pursuit of knowledge. He had encouraged her curiosity and questions, telling her that they were the mark of a keen mind; she knew from reading about him that as a Padawan and a Jedi Knight he had the same insatiable curiosity that she held. He had told her to question things, and so she would. She only hoped she would not cross some sort of line and anger him, in either her personal questions or her factual ones.

What she wanted to do was ask Revan what happened to him to change him, to ask what brought about his transition from an upstanding Jedi Knight to the Dark Lord of the Sith. Bastila wanted to know what happened on Malachor V after watching the clip of the holo-vid she had found in his room. She wanted to know when he had been forced to wear a suppression collar. And perhaps greatest of all, she wanted to know what Revan meant when he had asked her if she could pull her own trigger like he did.

Bastila did not see him as the type of man to try to commit suicide, but then again, she knew that she had no idea what kind of life he had been through. She did not possess that knowledge, but she discovered that she had a profound longing to. Because Revan was so very closed off, he piqued her curiosity, and her curiosity, once aroused, was nearly impossible to placate – unless it was given the information it wanted. The realization that wishing to know intimate details about a man whom she had known for only a few weeks, and who was keeping her prisoner, struck her as rather absurd; Bastila attributed this interest in Revan to the fact that she was being forced to spend all of her time with him – she was privy to seeing the man behind the front, even if it was only a glimpse every now and then. And it was those rare glimpses that had led her to believe that maybe the man behind that front was not such a monster after all, not like everyone else believed.

Bastila may have been willing to give Revan the benefit of the doubt, but his apprentice Malak was a completely different story. She had yet to feel the true, twisted pulse of the Dark side from Revan – directed at her, that is – but from the moment she had felt Malak's eyes on her, she had perceived it oozing from the taller man like some kind of disease. Bastila did not trust Malak at all, and even with Revan nearby, simply being around the apprentice made her uncomfortable. The way his cold, sunken yellowish-brown eyes had rested on her with a predatory, lustful gleam…she grimaced at the remembrance of his all too palpable gaze. She felt as if he had already violated her, even by just looking at her – and he probably had in his mind, she mused bitterly.

Letting out a bored and somewhat frustrated sigh, Bastila used her abdominal muscles to half-sit up and catch the time from the clock: Revan had been gone for at least ten minutes. Relaxing her stomach, she flopped back down against the bed again and stared blankly up at the ceiling for a while, her mind mercifully silent for a few moments.

"What the hell is taking him so long?" she muttered to herself, closing her eyes.

* * *

Revan paused as the door shut behind him, waiting until he heard the lock engage. Backtracking after a moment's consideration, he checked it himself and found all satisfactory; setting off at a purposefully brisk pace, he weaved his way through the camp to a specific biosphere that housed all of the droids they had brought along for the Rhen Var expedition. Entering the code to unlock the door, Revan stepped inside and scanned the room until his eyes fell on a deep rust-copper colored unit. A half-smile upturned a corner of his mouth as he approached the droid and stepped behind it, activating the unit.

"Statement: Cursory systems check has found all systems functioning at optimum efficiency. Standing by."

Revan grinned now, pulling down his facemask and moving in front of the droid after pressing another switch.

"Statement: Assassination protocols activated. Scanning for hostiles. None found. Pleased Observation: Why hello Master. Is there something I can kill for you?" the droid asked with a pleasant but unsettling air.

"Hello HK," Revan replied. "There is possibly something for you to kill, yes, but I need you to find it first."

"Query: So I must track this prey down? Wonderful," HK said with evil delight. "When can I begin, Master?"

"Not just yet. I need to outfit you with weapons."

"Indignant Statement: Master, I am fully capable of choosing my own weaponry. I am not as incompetent as those meatbags you call soldiers. Or anywhere near as much of an idiotic imbecile as that bald meatbag you call an apprentice. How he has not managed to shoot himself in the head is beyond me – if I were him, I would have ended my miserable existence long ago." HK paused. "Probing Query: I know you have rejected this offer in the past Master, but may I please rid the galaxy of his worthless carcass?"

Revan chuckled and shook his head. "No, HK, you may not shoot Malak, as much as I would sincerely like to tell you yes at the moment."

"Pleading Query: Oh please Master, give in?" the droid asked with such a display of human emotion in his mechanical voice that Revan wondered for the millionth time if HK had somehow been imbued with a soul.

He shook his head firmly now. "No. And I have yet to see you select your own weapons, HK…"

"Resentful Declaration: Master, it would be entirely rude of me to start perusing for weaponry while we are conversing."

Revan laughed outright at that. "You're a good liar HK, but I created you. I know you. You can't fool me."

"Resigned Acknowledgement: Yes, Master, I must admit that you are beyond my powers of deception and trickery. Nothing I have ever done has worked. I am near giving up," HK said, a hint of humor in his voice.

Revan rolled his eyes and snorted. "Right – you, give up. I don't think I ever programmed you with the capacity to give up. Perhaps I should?"

"Rebuttal: Now Master, you know full well you have programmed me with the closest thing to a human's capacity for emotion, thought, reason, and, why you did this I will never know, insanity. In any case, I am based off of your own mind. So if you are capable of giving up, I am able to give up. However, I cannot go against your orders…"

"It is not insanity, HK. It is closer to a fit of irrational behavior and thought. I wanted a droid that wasn't just a droid – and you said yourself that you wished to experience 'life' as a human would, but with the abilities of a droid," Revan explained, watching as the copperish unit carefully selected a blaster rifle and the needed ammunition.

"Agreement: Yes Master, that is what I requested. Query: What is it that I am hunting, Master?" HK asked while checking his blaster rifle.

"That's the thing – I don't know what it is. Here, this data chip contains all the information I have." Revan handed the droid the data chip; HK inserted it into a slot just behind his right optical sensor and Revan watched the droid's eyes flicker for a moment as his circuits processed the information.

"Observation: I believe this is definitely a predatory animal, well suited for stalking prey and just as well suited for killing. I rather respect this beast."

"As do I, HK, but the creature needs to die. Now this is primarily a reconnaissance mission, however, if you are attacked, you have my permission to use lethal force. I stress reconnaissance HK."

"Acquiescence: Understood Master. Retaliation only. Are all assassination protocols…?" the droid inquired, cocking its head to the side in a manner reminiscent of Revan's habit, though the Dark Lord did not notice – he did not realize he had the habit himself.

"Yes," the Sith replied, closing his vibrant green eyes for a moment and thinking. "Yes," he repeated. "Full freedom for this mission. A team led by myself will be joining you shortly after you arrive at the destination, so take note of the terrain as well. Do a tactical assessment of the area and update me when we meet again."

"Affirmative: Yes Master. Query: Are we to be linked by a COM-unit? I believe it would be prudent to give you periodic updates as well," HK suggested.

"Hmm, yes, that is a good idea. Channel three – I'll calibrate mine to the same." Revan set his COM-unit's primary channel to three and his secondary to the channel that Malak and his team would be using. As he did this, Revan could feel the way HK's gaze bored into him, observing, calculating, assessing. Emerald met red as he glanced up at the taller droid.

"I know you're trying to read me HK."

"Hesitant Query: Is there something wrong Master? You seem very distracted."

Revan shook his head. "No. I slept well for the first time in months last night, and my body is telling me exactly how exhausted I am. I could sleep for days…instead I'm about to throw myself into a search for a killer."

"Observation: In my studies of humans," Revan noted the way HK said 'humans' and not 'meatbags' – he was being completely serious, something that the droid did not do often, "I have noticed that though their bodies are remarkable organic machines capable of enduring incredible stresses for prolonged periods of time, every single one has a breaking point. I do not wish for you to reach that point, Master. It is not pretty. First the body gives up, and then the mind follows. I would prefer a sane master to a psychotic one, if you wouldn't mind."

Revan gave HK a dark smile. "We're all a little insane HK, myself more than most, I fear. I know what I am capable of, and my body is nowhere near giving up on me, nor is my mind for that matter. I have lost my sanity before, and I know the symptoms that precede it. Don't worry; _I'll_ lock _myself_ up before I go insane again."

"Malachor V Master?"

He almost didn't recognize the question as coming from the droid, as it sounded too human – perhaps because HK did not give his typical "query" before the question this time. Revan stared down at a blaster rifle that was on a short table and inspected it rather closely for a long time thinking over the droid's inquiry and remembering things he wished he could forget.

"Yes…Malachor V. If the galaxy thinks I am the face of evil, they are blind fools. I am nothing compared to what I saw there…" he trailed and abruptly snapped his head up, his gaze hard. "Get moving, HK. You have your weapon, my orders, and all the information you need. Why are you still here?"

The droid made an almost imperceptible shift backwards, away from his master. Again, Revan noted the way HK mimicked human emotions with a disturbing fluidity and ease that never ceased to amaze him.

"Apology: Forgive my sluggishness Master. I was…" the droid paused as if unable to find the right combination of words. "I shall be going now. I will update every ten minutes, if that is acceptable."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Go."

HK nodded as well, but hesitated a moment longer, the air of slight confusion apparent in his movements and, somehow, his glowing eyes before striding purposefully out of the biosphere and not looking back. Revan did not follow immediately, pondering over both his own actions and his droid's. It was not like HK to show such…concern – he did on occasion, but it was not a common thing by any means. Revan knew that he and the droid possessed a special relationship; he loved the droid as much as any man could love a machine, and he felt that he knew with good certainty that HK felt some form of affection for him – affection in HK's own unique way.

Interesting that he could love a machine, but not anything human, Revan mused. It was not that he was not able to feel affection or care for people, it was that no one ever returned it, and those whom he did finally let himself grow fond of either died or betrayed him. And so, he had given up even attempting to feel. He could think of at least one person that was able to evoke a happier emotion in him – the doctor that he had dragged with him through everything; the doctor who had seen every part of him, good, bad, inhuman; the doctor who had chosen to stay with him after all of this time. He wracked his brain and found that Sante deserved a place in this category was well. Sante was a good soldier who had fought next to him during their Republic days and who had followed him into Unknown Space at the end of the Mandalorian Wars, survived that, and had continued to serve him.

His mind flicked to his Jedi prisoner, Bastila, and his brows furrowed. Why was she coming up? She caused him nothing but grief and frustration. She did _not_ make him happy in any way…did she? Rationalizing, he supposed he was thinking of her because he was at least intrigued by her; he was not exactly fond of her – she was stubborn, prideful, and over-curious of his personal life, but she was better than most others. At least she seemed to be sincere in her questions…at least she seemed to actually _care._ It had been such a long time since he had met someone who was willing to see past him as the Dark Lord of the Sith and even attempt to find the man beneath the burden, and while it may or may not have been Bastila's intention, she was succeeding in doing just that – finding him.

While Revan made no monumental effort to hide his true self behind a facade, he was still a highly closed person, and it took a good amount of digging and relentless pressing to break down the walls he erected to keep other people out. Taking a reprieve from his convoluted thoughts, Revan sighed and exited the biosphere, making it a few steps outside before static crackled to life in the earpiece that was nestled in his left ear.

"Master?"

"I'm here. Go ahead."

"Statement: I have not reached the cave yet, but it is within range of my optical sensors. Terrain is rather desolate and flat. No signs of li – negative. Footprints in the snow. Your creature has been through here quite recently. Nothing else to report."

"Perfect," Revan replied. "Keep an eye out for anything unusual."

"Affirmative. HK out."

Static filled the earpiece for a split-second before everything fell silent and all Revan could hear was the howling of the wind that beat at him mercilessly as he trudged along. When he reached the biosphere he shared with one other person, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, a dark eyebrow rising as he noticed the position Bastila was in – sprawled half on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her head turned rather unenthusiastically, and her irises, grey but suffused with a tinge of blue in this light, showed utter boredom beneath heavy lids – though he did notice a slight brightening of them as he entered the biosphere. Was she happy to see him? That was entirely implausible and impossible in his mind.

"Trying to tell me something?" he asked as he removed his facemask and stared pointedly at her.

She glanced on either side of her and rolled her eyes, making a noise that was between exasperated and disgusted, ignoring his comment and sitting up. "What took you so long?"

Revan glanced at the clock, finding that about half an hour had passed since he had last been in the biosphere. Raising his eyebrows in some surprise, he gave her an apologetic look. "I didn't realize I had taken that long. I programmed the droid and then…I took some time to consider things that have come up lately."

Bastila could tell that, once again, something was weighing on him rather heavily, and she found that the somewhat frustrating urge to help him swelled within her another time. "Things that have come up lately?" she asked, probing gently.

"Yes, that _was_ what I said, wasn't it?" Revan replied smoothly, frostily.

Bastila, stung at his rebuff, suppressed a glare. "If you don't want to talk about it, you can just say so."

He sighed. "It's not that I don't want to talk…all right, I don't _particularly_ want to talk about it, but it's that I am not used to questions. It will take me more than one conversation to get used to you actually _wanting_ to know things about me."

"Well I think it's normal to want to know at least _something_ about the man who is holding me captive, don't you?" she replied, determined not to let him avoid this conversation.

Revan pursed his lips and a frown flitted across his features. "Yes, that's normal, but as I have already said, I am simply not used to being interrogated. Most people avoid me and do not have the courage to question me in any form or fashion. You are an exception, perhaps because I allow your questioning, but an exception nonetheless. I am making an attempt to work with – " Bastila noticed that he seemed to hear something, and he paused, then spoke again. "I'm here. Update?...Blood? That will likely be where the team was attacked."

"What?" Bastila asked, utterly confused. Who was he talking to?

"Shh!" he told her sharply, his eyes narrowed, focused. "No…yes, proceed. Return to the spot you are at after the next update. It's where I'll meet up with you." He nodded. "Understood. Out."

Bastila waited, knowing it was likely wise to wait for Revan to explain himself rather than question him before he was ready. He turned his head in her direction, his green eyes meeting her bluish-grey ones and holding their gaze. One large hand, his right and the tattooed one if she remembered correctly, went up to his ear and came back down holding a small earpiece between index finger and thumb.

"I receive updates every ten minutes through this from the droid that is scouting for me," he explained, replacing the earpiece and making sure it was comfortably snug.

"Ah." Bastila nodded in understanding. "I take it we're leaving soon?"

Revan glanced at the clock. "In about ten minutes, yes. Now what was it we were talking about?"

Surprised, she searched his face and found a trace of amusement in his green eyes that told her he had done that on purpose. He was intentionally doing the opposite of what he knew she expected him to do – steering the conversation back to the original subject rather than avoiding it or choosing to simply not talk about it.

"I…asked you what things had come up lately that were taking your attention," Bastila replied, still somewhat in shock.

"Ah yes. Actually…I was thinking about love, if you can believe it," Revan said with a smile that held an unidentifiable emotion. "The droid that is out there right now I designed myself, and it is rather dear to me. I found it ironic that I could love a machine and not a human."

"You can't think that…surely there is _someone_ who you at least enjoy seeing?" Bastila asked, hoping that there was somebody in his life that brought him some form of happiness.

"The only person I can think of who I truly consider a friend is one of my doctors. I've known him for nearly five years, and he is the only person I trust with my life," Revan said quietly.

"And that's it? He's the only one?"

He noted the disbelief in her voice and it angered him for some reason beyond his comprehension. "Tell me, Bastila, just how many friends _you_ had at your precious Jedi Academy," he half-growled, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at her expectantly.

She opened her mouth for a moment and then shut it, lowering her head. "I didn't really…have any friends…"

"You're more like me than you think, Bastila," he told her, though with a much gentler tone than before.

"How can I know if I'm like you if I don't even know who you are?" Bastila challenged, raising her eyes to his.

Revan sighed. "No one knows who I am…don't feel as if you are left out. _I_ even have trouble remembering sometimes." He glanced at the clock for what felt like the millionth time. "We should be heading out," he told her rather abruptly, leaving her question largely unanswered. He reaffixed the facemask over his face and stepped towards the door, waiting for her with a palpable air of impatience. As soon as she was ready, he opened the door and stepped out into the cold, Bastila following soon after; there was a small but still noticeable group of men clumped together, standing somewhat off to the side, encircling a pile of what looked to Bastila to be some kind of gear and Revan made his way to them.

"Sante!" he called out when halfway there.

"Sir?"

"Are we ready to go?"

"Almost sir. Lord Malak is doing a final check on all gear and personnel."

"Thank you Sante." Revan turned from one of the two men whom he trusted and approached his apprentice. "Malak, I take it you've gathered everything on that list I gave you?"

"Yes, Master. Everyone you requested is here, as is all of the equipment, though I don't see a use for some of it," the taller man replied, the tight facemask that covered his disfigured face accentuating the angularness of the metal jaw he now possessed.

"Don't question me, Malak," Bastila heard Revan growl in a low voice as she drew nearer, and she noted that Revan had never been so averse to her questioning as he was now to Malak's.

"I apologize Master, it was not my intention to question you, I was merely stating an observation," the apprentice backtracked, trying to keep himself in his master's good graces.

Revan's eyes were narrowed behind the goggles he was wearing. "Keep your 'observations' to yourself unless direly important, understood?" he said stiffly, angrily. Malak had been questioning him more and more lately, and Revan did not like it one bit. It was the _way_ his apprentice went about it, not the fact that he was reproachful; Revan was quite used to being over-analyzed, shot down, scoffed at, and dismissed whenever he formulated plans or ideas, so being second-guessed was a minor annoyance – but the fact that Malak had the gall to do it in a manner that was both servile and condescending at the same time infuriated him.

"Of course, Master, I just –" Same tone; same attitude. He had had enough. Lunging forward with blinding speed, Revan thrust his hand out and clenched Malak's neck, dragging the taller man's gaze down to his level. Ripping off Malak's goggles, he removed his own and let the fury blaze out from his eyes, now an emerald-crimson mixture, into his apprentices' surprised yellow-brown ones.

"If you are going to challenge me, do it openly you coward!" he snarled, choking Malak a little harder. "Don't try and play both sides – you were never good at that, Malak. You can't fool me; I see how you act, how you speak to me. You and I both know that one day you'll try to kill me, but until that day comes, you had better figure out your goddamn place in this universe – beneath me! I _am_ stronger than you, don't forget that."

With utter contempt, Revan shoved Malak away from him and let go of the taller man's throat, allowing him to breathe again. Most of the men were giving each other bewildered looks, as all of Revan's words had been spoken in such a low growl that only Malak and Bastila had heard the entirety, and Sante snatches of it.

Malak, somewhat embarrassed and more flustered than anything else, quietly bent over and retrieved his goggles, securing them on his head and over his eyes once more. He cursed in his mind, berating himself for letting his increasing dissatisfaction under Revan's rule seep through into his words and actions. He had to be more careful around his master than that – Revan was so astute it was almost inhuman. He could perceive deception, malcontent, anger, doubt…any emotion that differed from the norm with a disturbing ease, and Malak knew he was no exception. His master had most likely seen his minor rebellion for some time know but had let it go, waiting until now to erupt and almost violently bring him back into line.

"Is everyone ready to go?" Revan barked, his eyes, covered again, roving the group of men. They all nodded and picked up their allotted amount of gear; Revan did the same, shouldering a pack that was much heavier than it looked.

"What should I take?" Bastila asked him quietly, and Revan was somewhat surprised. He hadn't even thought of giving her anything to carry, but if she wanted to help…

"Here," he said, handing her the pack of medical supplies. "If someone gets hurt, do you know how to use any of this?"

She flipped open the cloth flap of the pack and inspected its contents, nodding as she secured the flap again. "I can effectively use all of it, but it depends on the type and severity of the injury."

"I understand. The main thing is that you know how to use the medical supplies." In truth, he was rather taken aback that she knew how to use all of what was in the pack. Unless she had studied medicine, she should not have knowledge of how to utilize some of the supplies within the pack – but he didn't have time to question her now.

Stepping ahead of everyone else, the Sith Lord turned and addressed his men. "As all of you are aware, something attacked and killed one of our search teams a few days ago. I can't tell you what we are up against because honestly, I don't know. What I _can_ tell you is that it is some kind of animal, but that is the extent of my knowledge. We're going to the same spot where our team was attacked and we are going to search until we find this animal, and we will not stop until its carcass lies in a pool of its own cold blood in the snow. Is that clear?"

There was a collective murmur of "Yes sir" and all heads nodded in assent, the men shifting in anticipation of the task ahead.

"Good. Let's move!"

Revan stayed at the head of the group, leading them in the direction of the last known position of the murdered search team. His earpiece crackled to life, and he listened intently.

"Master?"

"Go ahead."

"Statement: I have found something…interesting. I am marking it for when you arrive, as I am about to return to our predetermined rendezvous point."

"How far into the cave are you?"

"Estimation: Not very far from the rendezvous point, Master. Would you like me to stay where I am?"

Revan half-smiled. HK knew him well. "Yes, stay where you are. I can track you to your current location easily. I should be arriving in less than five minutes."

"Affirmative. I will keep a lookout for the predator and inform you if I see him. I will not contact you otherwise."

Revan didn't bother to verbally end the exchange – he and HK both knew what to do.

"Was that the droid?" he heard Bastila's much more pleasant, softly accented voice inquire.

"Yes, that was the droid I sent ahead for your peace of mind. He hasn't seen the creature yet, but he has found evidence of it being around the location we are headed towards. He just informed me that he has discovered something interesting a short distance deeper into the cave," Revan answered.

From a few feet away, Malak, if he had still possessed a mouth, would have scowled. So that was how it was going to be? Revan would answer all of the little Jedi bitch's questions politely and promptly, but Force forbid he, Revan's apprentice, ask what his master was doing! A seething hatred already boiled within Malak for the Jedi, and now he focused it on the one object near his grasp: Bastila.

Revan's head swiveled around to glance back at his apprentice as he felt the surge of dark anger pulse threateningly from Malak. The taller man showed no visible signs of fury, but Revan's gaze lingered for a moment, trying to discern the source of Malak's anger.

"Master?" the apprentice asked, the rage evident in his voice, but obviously directed at something other than his master, Revan could tell that much. Shaking his head, he returned his vision to the front and continued to lead his men on through the snow. Their destination was already visible, and Revan hastened his pace slightly, feeling a driving urge to confront the beast that had so foolishly challenged him.

The cave was a small, rather unremarkable thing from the outside. The entrance was low but wide, and nearly half of the group of eight ducked instinctively to protect their heads, though there was no real danger of hitting the ceiling. The ground sloped downward as soon as Revan stepped inside the cave and he began to cautiously make the gradual but somewhat steep descent, leading his men onward until the ground leveled out considerably – he and HK had marked this as the designated rendezvous point, and Revan paused.

Turning around, the Dark Lord of the Sith gazed upwards and saw that they had come down much further than he had anticipated. Returning his emerald gaze to the front, he took in how the cave seemed to yawn endlessly onward until it abruptly halted in a steep, cliff-like wall. Various passageways tunneled their way through this wall, as if trying to undermine it and breach it from below; there were no signs of any previous water flow or lakes, and the cave was very dry, the snow staying crisply cold and crunchy beneath Revan's feet. To his left was another branch of the cave – the largest off of this main cavern – and the Sith Lord glanced down at the ground, discerning the miniscule signs that told him HK had taken that route.

"Malak, if we split up, you will take a team with those three," Revan ordered, sweeping his pointed index finger over three men whom Malak knew better than he did. "I will take these." He motioned to Bastila, Sante, and another soldier. Malak nodded in assent, and the two groups formed behind their leaders. "For now, this is our rendezvous point if anything goes wrong," Revan explained, taking a long-burning flare from a pouch on his belt and snapping it alight, sparks spluttering from one end for a second before the flare leaped alive and cast a bright but eerily red glow all over the snow and ice in the cave. He tossed it a few feet away, on an iced-over rock, and left it there. "For now, we will stick together." Revan jerked his head to his left. "This way. Let's go."

Bastila was curious as to how Revan knew which direction to go, and remembering his words, she decided to ask. "How do you know it's this way?" she inquired, keeping her tone completely neutral and not letting a single hint of doubt seep into it.

"I can see HK's tracks," he replied without looking at her. "And I can sense him."

That answered the question that everyone had been thinking, and Bastila fell silent. Within a minute's short trek, Revan spotted HK's copperish glint and slowed, not because of catching sight of the droid, but because of catching sight of what the droid was near.

In the ground was a massive, gaping maw of a hole, its diameter perhaps twenty feet across. HK looked up from his long gaze into the opening, his red eyes glowing vividly against the pristine white of all the snow around him.

"Greeting: Hello Master – I see you've made it safely."

Revan nodded, his gaze still locked on the hole as he drew nearer. "Is this…?"

"Affirmative: Yes Master, this is what I found. The hole is very large, but not incredibly deep. However, from the preliminary scans I have done, it seems that there is an entire cavern beneath this hole," the droid explained.

"Is the ice we're standing on safe?"

"Placation: Yes Master, the ice we're on is quite thick. This is not a crack in the ice – the ice simply never formed completely over whatever rock formation is beneath."

"Good." Revan turned to the men behind him. "Everyone drop your gear here for now. Ten minute break."

Almost silently, the men obeyed and set down their packs of gear, easing up their attentiveness only very slightly. They had all heard what had happened to their teammates, and none of them wanted it to happen to them as well. Malak made his way over to where his master was, as did Bastila, and Sante was close behind.

"So what do you think this is?" they all heard Revan quietly ask HK.

The droid glanced down at the hole and stared into again for a short while before locking his glowing red eyes onto Revan's ethereal emerald ones. "Confident Assumption: I believe this is the main entrance to the creature's lair, Master," the HK said gravely.

Bastila noted how…_human_ this droid seemed, and it unsettled her to watch a machine operate with such convincing humanness. She heard Revan sigh, watched the cloud of vapor swirl out from behind his facemask and evaporate into the air, and strained her ears to hear his quiet words.

"So do I, HK. It's not safe to stay here too long. We should return to the original spot as soon as possible. I would rather operate out of a relatively safe location than worry that one of my men could disappear right out from under my nose," Revan told HK.

"Agreement: Yes Master, I believe that would be wise. The beast will most likely come through here more often than anywhere else in the cave that we can reach, and we do not need to be in constant danger. If we move towards the rock wall in the largest cavern of this cave, we should be far enough away from the creature's route to set up a temporary camp safely."

Revan nodded and finally turned around, his green eyes making brief contact with Bastila's, Sante's, and Malak's, all in turn. With a small nod of his head, he beckoned them over to where he and the droid were standing.

"What is the plan, Master?" Malak asked, glancing down uneasily into the hole. He did not particularly like knowing he could fall over the edge and break his neck at any time. Bastila shifted and snow crunched beneath her boots; Malak's attention focused on her for a moment, and his anger began to simmer again, though he kept it in check for now.

"HK and I have agreed that this is likely the main entrance that the creature uses to access its lair, which appears as of now to be below us," Revan said. "We are going to regroup at the original point – the area I flared – and then we are going to move towards the rock wall on the far end of the cave and set up camp there. Then we're going down into that hole." The Dark Lord turned and barked out orders to his remaining two men, and they obeyed swiftly. He dispatched them to the original rendezvous point and told them to wait there; Malak and Bastila stayed behind, as did HK.

"My team will go down into the hole, and your team will stay up here to keep watch Malak. We don't know if the creature is even in the cave, and I need you to let me know if he passes through the main cavern, or through here. Set up sensors for this area – I don't want any warm bodies in here. Clear?"

"Yes Master," Malak responded, for now, leaving any dissatisfaction he had with Revan to rest – this was Revan's element, and Malak conceded to his Master unquestioningly in times like this. "What time do my team's sensors need to be placed and functional?"

"How many sensors do we have?"

Malak remembered the number from the inventory list on the data pad. "We have eight."

"Thirty minutes to set up all eight. As soon as you are finished with that, I want your team to set up a patrol of the main cavern. Two man patrols – _never_ go anywhere alone," Revan ordered. "Go."

His apprentice walked back briskly to his team and informed them of Revan's orders; they immediately broke into two groups of two and began to unpack and set up the sensors around the small cavern they were in. Revan again gazed into the dimly lit maw in the ground; though the light was poor, he could see perfectly – a trait that was decidedly inhuman, but that he had possessed all his life. He had never really noticed, never given it much thought; it was a part of him, and he knew no better.

As his emerald eyes pierced the darkness, he perceived bones strewn about on the icy floor, some human looking, others animal, but he could not tell from this far up. He turned away, keeping his focus and not allowing the wrongful deaths of his men to anger him yet – he would keep that anger locked away until he needed it. Bastila's quiet, soft voice again broke into his thoughts. He was getting quite used to having his inner voice interrupted by hers – a voice that was much more pleasant and easy on the ears than his was.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, her eyes seemingly a white-grey against the pure snow. Her goggles were down around her neck, and though it was covered, Revan remembered the way her alabaster skin seemed so smooth, so perfect, and how he wanted to feel that skin beneath his lips, to feel her pulse as he touched her. Shoving down thoughts like those for the moment, he answered her.

"We will be going down this hole and splitting up into groups as well." He took a step towards her and lowered his voice a bit. "You'll be with me. HK will go with the other group – they'll have three, but none of them are Jedi." Again, Bastila noted Revan stepped closer, and his voice lowered even more. "I need you to promise me something."

Bastila gazed up in to his ethereal green eyes, acutely aware of his proximity. "What?" she asked, equally as quietly.

He shifted, blocking her from everyone else's view. "I'm going to take your suppression collar off." Revan held up a hand as she opened her mouth to speak. "It would be entirely foolish of me to put you at such a disadvantage going into this confrontation. I need you to promise me that you won't try to do anything to me or my men."

Bastila's brows furrowed. "Revan, even if I wanted to, I don't think I could do anything to you. Your men, perhaps, but what good would that do me? I would just anger you, and put myself at even more of a disadvantage – both in this current situation, and in your favor. If this is a test, I will pass it. I know what kind of danger we are in, and I won't do anything to compromise our safety. Besides, even if I were to escape you, I'd be stranded on this planet. I am not quite _that_ stupid."

Revan nodded, acknowledging all that she had just said. "I realize that you are not stupid, Bastila. I never meant to imply that. I simply wanted to impress upon you the seriousness of what I am about to do. Like it or not, you are a part of this now. Your survival depends on me – and right now, these men as well – and it depends on how well you cooperate. Remember that." He did nothing to confirm or deny her observation that this was a test, though they both knew it was.

"I understand," Bastila replied. "I am your prisoner, but I am more than that, aren't I?"

Revan searched her face for a moment, then nodded. "You have always been more than my prisoner, Bastila. If you were simply a prisoner to me, I would not let you have any freedom, I would not bring you with me on a mission like this; if you were simply a prisoner, I would not…" he paused. He wanted to say "trust you like I do" but that was far too candid, and left him much too vulnerable. "I would not put _any_ faith in you, as opposed to the small amount I have allowed myself to entrust you with. Don't make me regret that."

"Have I given you any reason to regret trusting me?"

"No, but that does not mean it is the right decision. I put trust in you because of who you are – you are a woman, and a Jedi. Both are trustworthy and loyal."

Bastila frowned lightly, giving him a look. "You know, you're making me sound like a pet kath hound," she half-snapped.

Revan blinked. "I am sorry, that was not my intention" he replied calmly, almost unemotionally.

She rolled her eyes at him. "So are you saying men are not trustworthy?"

He shook his head. "No, I never said that. Men are just as trustworthy as women, but for different reasons. Women trust for reasons that bind tightly, emotional reasons – men trust because of respect. Respect is fast gained or lost, and loyalties shift. Emotional ties are hard to break, painful to break, and loyalties tend to stay static more often than not. Men are able to think separately with their hearts and their heads; for women, thinking with their hearts and heads is a combined effort. It is why women are more compassionate, kinder, gentler creatures."

"Sir, I apologize for the interruption, but when are we to embark?" Sante asked, walking up to the two Force sensitives.

"As soon as I am satisfied with Malak's team's safety and the sensors they are setting up," the Dark Lord replied.

Sante nodded. "Yes sir."

He returned to the larger cavern, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Bastila turned to Revan. "So you trust me because of my compassion?"

"Partially, yes."

"What are the other reasons?"

Bastila distinctly saw Revan's mouth curl into a smile behind his facemask. "That would be telling, wouldn't it? No; this is not the time or the place to discuss it any further." He glanced around, his green eyes briefly locking on each man as his gaze swept over them. "I fear we have wasted too much time on this subject already."

"All right then – later." Bastila moved and drew his eyes back to her. "When am I getting this suppression collar off?"

"Soon, but not here. If any of the men saw me taking it off of you, they would get suspicious. Here…come with me." Revan found HK and told him he and Bastila were going to scout the area for Malak's team to set up patrols. He led Bastila back out to the main cavern, passing his own men as they went, and then over to the sheer wall of ice and rock that held many tunnels; taking a glance around and finding them relatively alone, Revan motioned for her to come closer. "Do you want me to do it all?"

Bastila was somewhat confused. "I…guess so?"

He nodded and brought his gloved hands up to her neck, relieving her of her goggles and handing them to her. Revan then undid her armor around her neck, unzipped her thermal suit, and pulled the fabric down until he could access the Force suppression collar. Bastila forced herself to stay calm, the knowledge that Revan was, in a way, undressing her not escaping her notice. Perhaps one of the only things that saved her was the fact that his fingers were gloved – if they had not been, Bastila did not know how she would have reacted to his bare fingertips on her neck. She felt him rotate the collar around, and then pause, his eyes showing concentration.

"Now when I disconnect this, I need you to suppress your aura. You do know how to do that, right?"

Bastila hesitated, and Revan began to worry. "I know how to dampen my aura somewhat, yes," she said, hoping that was sufficient for him.

"That will do fine."

Revan had programmed the collar to recognize his Force signature and to allow him to manipulate the collar in whatever way he saw fit. With a precise touch, he disabled the collar's electricity flow, and with a second touch, he disconnected the ring, removing it from around Bastila's neck. As soon as he did this, she felt her connection to the Force surge back, the feeling akin to being dead and coming alive again; Bastila remembered to immediately suppress her aura's strength as Revan had asked. It was amazing, being connected to the Force again. She could feel everything a thousand times more intensely; feel the pulse of life through every living thing, the threads of the Force weaving a tapestry of life.

And then, she truly felt Revan for the first time. The man was raw, unadulterated and untamed power – power that rippled from him in fierce, intense waves, oscillating and fluctuating…_pulsing_; it seemed to caress her, call her, that power, existing in its purest, most unchecked form. Wrong though she knew it was, Bastila longed to touch him, to feel him beneath her hands, her fingertips. She wanted to physically experience him in the way that her senses were experiencing him now. Was this lust, to want him in such a physical way?

She again noticed a smile beneath the Dark Lord's facemask, and wrenched herself out of her thoughts.

"What?" she asked, keeping her voice level despite inner conflict.

He gave a small shake of his head. "It's nice to have it back, isn't it?"

"Very much so," she agreed.

"I know that feeling," he told her. "Remember what I said."

Bastila gave a short nod. "I remember. And…"

Revan had begun to walk away, but he paused and turned back to look at her as she trailed. "Hmm?"

Bastila paused, finding the way he growled 'hmm' very sensual, and it affected her more than she expected. She was zipping up her thermal suit and fixing her armor now, and she finished what she was going to say a few seconds before. "Thank you, Revan."

His beautiful green eyes showed confusion, and he turned fully, taking a small step towards her. "Thank you? For what? The Force suppression collar?"

"Yes. You don't have to do this, and yet you are. Thank you."

She watched him blink for a little while before responding. "You're welcome then." Revan motioned with a hand for her to come over to where he was, and she complied, walking up next to him. "Come, we need to look like we're doing something. And make sure your neck is never exposed – I don't want any questions." He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her a few steps before removing his hand; Bastila felt this acutely, even through the armor and thermal suit, and was grateful for the facemask that covered her features – it meant she did not have to keep her expressions as neutral as she normally would have. Now that her connection to the Force was reestablished, Bastila noticed an odd feeling that seemed to permeate her entire being, like there was something just beneath her skin, and yet, deep inside of her. Whatever it was, it seemed both familiar and foreign, and it was an annoyance that she could not shake.

Revan notice a change in the way Bastila's presence felt inside him – the feeling had grown stronger, more intense, and it demanded his attention. He could sense much more from her now, and from the _way_ he sensed it, his fears that had been stirred in the biosphere were all but cemented. Still, he could not make a determination on this situation; he just did not feel confident enough with the limited information he had.

His emerald irises roved around the area they were occupying, taking in the many tunnels in the wall to his right, the wide open space to his left, and the end of the cave's width in ice and rock to his front and back. There was a small area where the rocks rose up from the ground, creating a spot well suited for cover, Revan thought, if ever a firefight commenced. Making a quiet noise, he forced himself to change the way he was observing things – not as if he was facing an army, but as if he was facing an animal. He switched his point of view to that of how a predatory beast would see this cave, how a beast would strategize, use cover, flank, ambush. Bastila heard his soft grunt and turned to look at him, seeing the way his eyes were narrowed making less green visible to her, but she had no trouble remembering exactly what those striking irises looked like. What iris was visible was filled with concentration; Bastila saw the way his eyes darted back and forth, seeing, observing, calculating everything that came under their gaze.

"What exactly are we supposed to be looking for?" she asked, feeling rather useless just standing next to him. His eyes slid over and focused on her, and Bastila had the odd sensation that she could _feel_ his gaze more now that the Force suppression collar was off of her neck.

"I'm trying to…" he paused, unsure of how to describe what he was doing, "…to see things how the beast might see them. Trying to calculate weak spots, easily defendable ones, blind spots…" Revan paused again, looking up at the ceiling of the cave now. "Though, since it seems whatever we are facing can crawl on the ceiling, I will have to take that into account as well." He sighed. "Count how many tunnel openings are in that wall," he told her, pointing to his right, his hand mere inches from her face. She stayed gazing into his eyes for a moment longer before turning her head to look at the tunneled wall, counting any holes she could see. It barely registered that Revan's hand was still up and near her face until she felt his glove press gently against her covered cheek, tugging her gaze back to his. All they could see of each other were their eyes, but that was all they needed to see to tell what the other was feeling: Revan, concerned, Bastila, confused.

"Revan…?" she asked a little shakily, the intensity in his eyes making it hard for her to breathe.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" he asked quietly, stepping closer to her. "This is a dangerous situation."

Bastila was surprised by the sincerity of the concern in his eyes and voice; she nodded, never breaking eye contact with him. "I know, and I am prepared for what lies ahead. I am just as deep in this as you are. We are in this together, though on opposing sides of the grander scale we may be."

Revan was pleasantly taken aback by the wisdom in her words, and it was his turn now to nod, still speaking softly to her. "Good. You may not think it, but I _am_ concerned for your well-being, Bastila."

She half-smiled beneath her facemask, and Revan both saw it and felt the shift beneath his gloved hand. "You are a walking contradiction."

He dropped his hand from her face and looked at her. "Am I now?"

"Yes, you are. You are the Dark Lord of the Sith…you are not supposed to…" Bastila trailed, unsure of how to explain herself.

"I'm not supposed to…what?"

"You're not supposed to _care_," she replied, raising her voice a little.

"And…why not?" Revan questioned.

"Because you're the Dark Lord of the Sith!" Bastila answered, controlling the volume of her voice, lowering it once more to a whisper.

Revan shook his head. "We can argue this later. How many tunnels did you find?"

Bastila sighed, knowing he was right and letting go of the subject for now. "I counted seven. Do you think it would be wise to explore them some?"

The Dark Lord sighed as well and turned towards the sheer ice-rock wall. "Yes, we should probably check into the tunnels to make sure they don't go all the way to the surface. Come; don't wander off."

"I'm not a child," she snapped, falling in step behind him as he entered the first of seven tunnels.

"No, you are not, but you do have a habit of doing the opposite of what I want. I am trying to avoid that for once."

Bastila said nothing, as he was right – she _did_ usually do the opposite of what he wanted, mostly just to irritate him, but partially out of her own stubbornness. Being ordered around was never one of Bastila's strong points, especially if the orders came from someone she did not like; this was no exception. However, she did at least respect Revan, and to be honest, feared him, and so she obeyed him more often than not when it was something of dire importance. Glancing around herself, she shivered a bit as the temperature seemed to drop as they headed deeper into this tunnel. Miserably cold, afraid, but grateful for her reconnection to the Force, she continued to trudge after Revan, forcing herself to stay alert.

* * *

Malak surveyed the area, inspecting the work he and his men had done, and found all satisfactory. The sensors were all completely hidden, and none gave off any sign of their presence by sound, heat or otherwise; the only way they could be detected was by measuring their energy output in a scan that was referred to as "wave vision" – a spectrum that allowed anyone scanning in it to perceive any electricity using objects, self-powered or hooked up to a larger feed.

Using a specifically designed device, Malak was scanning in this spectrum now, and confirmed that all the sensors were working at optimum efficiency. The apprentice turned as he heard the crunch of booted feet on the snow, the gait recognizable as his master's, and a second one he had yet to commit to memory, but that he knew was Revan's prisoner; the steps were too close together and the crunch of snow too soft to be that of a man.

"Master," Malak greeted, giving a small, respectful bow. "My team and I have finished installing the sensors you requested, and they are up and running."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Excellent. I have done a preliminary survey of the area I want your team to patrol." Revan handed Malak a data pad he had written on while inspecting the cavern with Bastila. "Here is what I recommend, and what I saw. It's likely that I didn't catch everything, but your team should be relatively safe if they follow my orders."

"Yes, Master. Shall I brief them with this information now?"

"Yes. My team and I are almost ready to descend into that hole, and I want your team set up before we go down there. From now on we will only contact each other over the COM units."

The taller man nodded and left to instruct his team; Revan told Bastila to wait with HK and he retrieved the two-man team that he had sent to the original rendezvous point as a makeshift lookout. They all gathered around the maw in the smaller cavern, the men shifting in anticipation and nervousness. Revan did not address them; in fact, he did not even look at them, he simply went about setting up a rappel line. Taking out the necessary tools from a pack, he checked around the edge of the hole that was closest to another wall until he found a good spot and squatted down. With a quick, violent movement that was nonetheless graceful, Revan raised his arm and drove the anchor for the rappel line into the ground in a single hit. Going in a straight line from this anchor point, Revan moved farther away from the mouth of the hole and drove another anchor into the ground for added safety; he repeated this one more time and then looped the rope through the anchors and secured it snugly.

Static crackled in Revan's earpiece and he paused. "Master, I have set up the small camp you instructed, and my men are beginning their patrols. You are sure none of them need to check the tunnels again?"

For once, Malak's voice contained no traces of insubordination, and so the Sith Lord answered him civilly. "Yes, I am absolutely sure. None of those tunnels have opening to the surface anymore – they have all caved in."

"Affirmative. Anything else my team and I need to do?"

"Nothing other than keep your eyes open and alert, and monitor those sensors. If we get ambushed, from above, I blame you."

There was a brief pause. "Yes Master. Malak out."

Revan turned and faced his team now, looking over the small unit for a moment. Bastila was standing slightly off to the side, her arms crossed over her chest; Sante was alertly looking around, his blaster rifle gripped firmly in his hands; the man next to him was doing the same, blaster rifle poised and ready, the safety off; HK was standing calmly, blaster rifle lowered, red eyes slowly roving over the entire area. Taking a deep breath, Revan let it out and watched the swirling cloud of vapor dissipate before speaking.

"This is it – what happens after this, I can't tell you. We're going down into an unexplored area that houses a beast no one has seen before, and who has already killed four of our men. Stay alert, do not panic, and trust that I will get you out of this alive. That is all I can ask of you." Revan pulled out what looked like a small blaster, aimed it at the ceiling just above the opening, and fired. A metal cord shot out of the barrel and punched through the ice, securing itself immovably nearly half a foot into the frozen ceiling; hooking the blaster to his gauntlet, Revan made sure it was locked. "Bastila," he said, holding out a hand in her direction.

Warily, she approached him and hesitantly took his large hand. "Don't…"

"Too late." Revan pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her; without any further warning, he leaped forward, plunging into the darkness and plummeting towards the ground over one hundred feet below. Bastila instinctively threw her arms up around his neck in a vice grip that nothing could break, and hooked her legs around his, gripping for dear life. The wind whistled in their ears as they continued to descend but quieted as Revan slowed them down; they touched down on the ground softly, a gentle and expert landing. He glanced down at the woman who was holding on to him as if it was the end of the universe.

"You can let go now," he said quietly into her ear, his voice bordering on a sensual growl as he let his arms fall to his sides. Bastila's legs slid off of the outside of his, her knees letting off their pressure on his hips, but her arms stayed around his neck until she could get her balance. When this was recovered, she slowly unraveled her arms from about his neck and then abruptly slapped him – though only with enough force to turn his head.

"Don't _ever_ do that again you arsehole!" she hissed at him, the adrenaline pumping through her system with each rapid thump of her heart.

Revan cranked his head back around to look at her, calmly retrieving a flare from his belt and snapping it alive, the red glow casting almost demonic shadows on the reflective ice in the new cavern as he dropped it. Bastila saw suppressed anger in his eyes and waited almost worriedly, wanting him to do _something_ besides just stand there and stare at her with those veiled irises.

The fact that she had the audacity to slap him angered him, but it was more of an amused anger than anything else. He had wanted to see how she would react to that – being thrown into a possibly threatening situation – and true to her nature and Revan's perception of her, she had recovered well. So well, in fact, she had taken the time to smack him across the face without seemingly caring what the consequences might be. Luckily for her, there would be none at this moment.

"Since it is obvious I startled you, I will let the fact that you smacked me go this time. However, I do not enjoy being slapped – so please refrain from doing so in the future," he said in a low, even voice.

Bastila saw Sante about to touch down on the ground next to them and noticed the sparse amount of bones littering the icy surface for the first time. "Yes, Lord Revan," she grumbled, using the honorific for the first time and finding it awkward to her tongue. Revan gave her a short nod and took a few steps forward, peering intently into the enveloping darkness beyond the edge of the ring of light created by the flare until the entire group of five was securely down on the ground.

"Query: Master, would you like me to go first?" HK asked, stepping next to his creator.

Revan shook his head. "No, I will go first."

"Are you sure, Master? Visibility is all but nonexistent and –"

"I can see just as well as you can, HK," the Dark Lord replied quietly, turning to the rest of his team. "Is everyone ready?" They all nodded, and he unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, gripping the hilt firmly, a small thrill of nervousness running through him. Fighting other men was one thing, fighting a beast, entirely another. Animals were fundamentally more dangerous than humans, Force sensitives or no; they were quicker, more brutal, more suited for killing. Taking a calming breath, Revan spoke.

"We are going to split up. Sante, check your pack – there should be night vision goggles in there. I'm sending HK with you and your partner; Bastila and I will go together. From HK's preliminary scans, the cavern branches to the right and left before meeting again in the middle after about three hundred yards. We'll regroup there if nothing comes up. Clear?"

"Sir!" Sante and his partner barked in affirmative. They, with HK at point, took the route to the right. Revan watched them go for a few seconds before setting off along the left path with Bastila behind. Bastila didn't want to have to deal with any night vision goggles getting in her way and so with her newly reestablished connection to the Force, she used her abilities to penetrate the darkness, rendering it a nonexistent factor.

The underground cavern they were in was actually quite beautiful, and not completely mired in darkness as they had originally believed. All along the walls were crystals that lent a soft glow to the cavern, illuminating their path in such a way that was both helpful and detrimental – it allowed them greater visibility, but made everything so dimly visible that it was hard to tell a rock from a hole in the ground. Revan did not have this problem, as his eyes adjusted to the varying degrees of light without him having to give it any thought, and Bastila was able to compensate rather well with the Force; Sante and his team of three had the same issue, but for now, the night vision goggles negated any ill effects.

A crunching sound reached the two Force sensitives' ears and Revan instinctively brought his lightsaber up in preparation to ignite it while Bastila withdrew her retractable vibroblade and snapped out the metal blade. She saw Revan's closed fist raised in the air and she halted behind him, tense, waiting. Two minutes crawled agonizingly by in dead silence, broken only by the sound of her own breathing which seemed far too loud to her own ears. Revan said nothing, however, and finally motioned to continue on. He had taken four steps forward when he abruptly halted and whirled, grasping her by the shoulder and throwing her down to the ground, crouching over her soon after, his large hand planted firmly on her body and pressing downward to keep her in the ice and snow.

Bastila was smart enough not to say anything as she sensed the way Revan was coiled, ready to strike; she hoped to the Force that it was not the creature – not yet. Again, time seemed to creep by as if in a stasis hold, each second feeling like an eternity and each minute more than she could bear. Finally, Revan let off his pressure and helped her up from the ground.

"Thought I heard something," he muttered, and Bastila knew there was more to it than that. He had probably sensed something too; otherwise he wouldn't have reacted so strongly. They continued on deeper into the cavern, making good progress and growing used to the sound of ice shifting and cracking, committing the sound to memory so as to be able to distinguish it from any other odd sounds. Just as Bastila was getting comfortable again and forgetting the very real danger they were in, Revan stopped walking and held a hand up to his ear, head slightly bent over.

"Master…"

Malak sounded uneasy. "What is it?" Revan asked, feeling the sudden need to swallow, and a tingling tightness deep in his gut.

"The sensors have picked up movement. I think…I think it's our beast. He just passed through that cavern and dropped out of sensor range as soon as he made it over the lip of that hole." There was a three second pause. "He's down there with you Master."

Revan was quiet for a long time, thinking, sensing. Malak was right – he could feel the beast's Force signature clearly, but it was not coming towards them. It was going the opposite way, likely to catch up with Sante's team.

"Shit," he cursed quietly. "All right. Stay where you are. Out."

Revan contacted HK and waited until the droid had responded.

"HK, the animal is en route to your position. Safeties off, blasters ready – stay alert. I'm on my – what the fuck?"

Revan whirled around, reaching out through the Force, trying vainly to feel the creature's Force signature.

"Son of a bitch…the fucker knows how to conceal his aura! HK you're screwed unless you can catch sight of this thing – tell the men to take cover, and you do a continuous life scan on the surrounding area. I'll get there as fast as I can."

Revan was already checking the map that HK had made of the cavern; it picked up on the locating devices Revan had placed on everyone's armor well beforehand and told him everyone's position, including his own. They were more than halfway through the right branch of the cavern, as was the other team in the left cavern, and the quicker route to HK and the other two would be to press forward.

"Revan what's going on?" Bastila asked, the anxiety present in her voice.

"It's down here with us now, and it _was_ heading towards Sante's team. I have no idea where it is now though, since it apparently knows how to conceal itself!" he snapped angrily, moving in a brisk jog as he called backwards to Bastila.

"So you're saying we're at a major disadvantage," she stated rather flatly, jogging right alongside him, matching his pace.

"Major is an understatement. We don't know this cavern…" he paused to take a breath – the cold air burned his lungs and made it difficult to get oxygen – "It does; it can stalk us without us knowing…where it is…since it can basically go…invisible. So yes…I would say we're at…a major disadvantage."

Bastila was silent for a moment, the only sound audible the loud crunching of their feet against the icy snow. "Someone…is going to die," she finally said quietly, her breathing just as hindered as his.

"I know," Revan replied unemotionally, though inside, he was burning with anger. He had promised to get his men out of this alive, and whatever animal they were facing was threatening that promise. Now it was time to drop his walls and let the murders of his men fuel his fury and his desire to watch this creature's grip on life slip away as his blood stained the snow around him.

It was time to let this beast know just who it was fucking with.


	6. Chapter 6

Oooookay! Looong wait guys, and I apologize, but my life, again, has been hectic as crap. I took my basketball team to the state semis, so that took a lot of my time and energy, plus some stupid research paper...gah. Anyway, in this chap, I have tried a new literary technique: streams of consciousness. Basically, it's writing the character's thoughts down as they'd really sound, all jumbled and running together.

EDIT: So...I kind of decided that the stream of consciousness thoughts are a little hard to read, so I'm gonna edit them a bit to make it just a little more clear, since it doesn't fit with the rest of my story very much anyhow.

Let me know if you like it or hate it.

As for those who want more Bastila ogling by Revan, here you go. Ephemeral Mist so kindly pointed that out to me, and helped me immensely with that, so much thanks to her. Tell her thank you if you like that section, I take no credit for it.

Hope you enjoy, and I hope I haven't forgotten anything...o.O

(That's what happens when you edit and submit things at two in the morning, EM. :P I hope the partitions are fixed...dunno what went wrong there.)

* * *

HK paused after receiving Revan's orders, doing a preliminary life scan and finding nothing; then, with rapidity reminiscent of Revan himself, the droid whirled and barked orders at the two men with him.

"Directive: Take cover, meatbags! Lord Revan says the beast is down here and is heading our way, as is he with as much swiftness as he can manage. However, it is very likely the beast will reach us first – and we must be prepared. Weapons readied! Safeties off, sights on, rapid burst selected."

Sante's grey eyes went wide behind his night vision goggles, a thrill of fear coursing through the veteran's body; paralyzing him for the briefest of moments. Snapping himself out of it, he grabbed the young man standing next to him and dragged him to an outcropping of snow and ice covered rocks, hunkering down behind them and beginning to check his weapon. He glanced at his partner and saw the man was shaking – though it was not from the cold.

"You panic, you die," Sante grunted, shoving his head down roughly and forcing him to look at his weapon. "Make sure that thing is locked and loaded. Watch that corridor when you're done," he told the soldier, giving him things to keep him occupied. Sante inched his head above the cover of rocks and saw HK still standing there. "You'll be our eyes in that direction, HK?" he asked.

"Affirmative, meatbag. I will be making sure your organic carcasses do not get ripped apart from this direction, as per Lord Revan's orders."

"Then we're safe from that direction," he murmured. Having seen the droid in action before, Sante knew exactly what it was capable of – and spotting an animal was not a problem for the droid's advanced circuitry. Now, they just had to wait – wait for Revan, and wait for the beast to show itself.

* * *

Revan sucked in another icy breath – his lungs screaming at him and his vision swimming from the lack of oxygen. The frozen air was so hard to breathe that despite his current – and by no means poor – level of physical fitness, he was finding it increasingly difficult to press on and keep running. He risked a glance back at his Jedi companion and sensed through the Force that she was in just as much agony as he was.

"Not…much…further…" he said breathlessly between gasps of air. His words proved somewhat prophetic, as they reached the massive main cavern of the beast's underground lair. Hitting a patch of ice, Revan skidded to a halt, managing to keep his balance with a surprising amount of grace.

"Boots…" he grunted, leaving Bastila mystified as to what he meant. She watched closely as Revan leaned over, picked up his right foot a bit, and pressed something on his boot. A split second later, a set of metal spikes erupted from the sole of his boot, and he set his foot down, repeating the process for his left foot. Bastila looked down rather helplessly at her own boots, having no idea what he pressed or where to get the spikes. With a quiet grunt, he squatted down and did everything for her, giving her a subdued glare as he stood.

"Do I need to teach you how to use that too?" Revan growled, pointing at her vibroblade.

Bastila flicked her wrist, snapping the blade open again, and thrust it in Revan's direction with a fluid ease. "While you're at it, teach me how to walk?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "No, I _think_ I can manage on my own," she snarled. "It is not my fault I don't know how many damn gadgets you've installed in this armor, and it is _certainly_ not my fault I don't know how to use them! Maybe you'll prepare me better next time – this one's on _you_," she finished, knowing she was right and seeing in his eyes that he knew it too.

Revan was silent, staring her down for a few seconds before finally sighing and looking around the cavern. He did not acknowledge Bastila's small victory; he simply let the subject go and opened his COM channel. "HK is everything clear?"

"Observation: So far, yes Master."

"Good. We're almost there. Revan out."

He closed the channel and continued to look around, his gaze never resting on one place for long, all of his senses alive with adrenaline and highly alert. Revan could hear Bastila's still somewhat labored breathing, the way it was gradually slowing to a normal rhythm; he perceived each minute crunch when the ice around them shifted, letting it fade into background noise so he would be able to distinguish any sounds that were out of place; he felt the way his heart was pounding, his nerves tingling, his gut clenched tightly in the same way his hand was clenched around the hilt of his lightsaber. This was Revan before a battle; outwardly, he appeared the epitome of calm, but chaos reigned inside, and that was the way he liked it. He liked the feeling of being a little out of control of himself, of being not completely prepared.

With a deep inhale, Revan turned to look at Bastila, his emerald eyes finding her grey ones, noting they looked white-grey against the pure snow and ice around them. There was no tinge of blue in her eyes anymore, and Revan wondered if he had been seeing things in the biosphere. Pushing that trivial matter out of his mind, he jerked his head in the direction of HK's tunnel.

"Let's go – we've wasted enough…" He paused, something catching his eye as his gaze roved over the cavern one last time. _What the…?_Eyes hard set, Revan made in the direction of what he had seen and slowed considerably upon realizing what it was that had seemed so out of place. _Poor bastard…_

A beam of light had glinted off the metallic barrel of a blaster rifle – a blaster rifle that was still gripped in the cold hand of a freshly dead man. His blood still dribbled out from a huge gash across his torso – in reality, from every inch of his mangled and nearly decapitated body – a fact that surprised Revan as he looked around the area that had previously been blocked from his view. Blood was splattered everywhere, coating the snow and ice liberally and still running down it in small droplets that had yet to freeze. Revan's mind raced as he surveyed the carnage before him – thoughts jumping from one brief thread to another.

_Blood everywhere…too much - too fresh. Been dead for…less than half an hour – bastard toyed with him for days then murdered him. Looks like a frag blew out his insides._ Revan's thoughts snapped to the past._ Mandalorian bastards…sick fucks; I found too many prison cells like this._

The Dark Lord reached up and pulled off his facemask, his mouth set deeply in a frown, and knelt down next to the deceased soldier, tugging at his bloodied jacket.

"For Force's sake, leave his body alone," Bastila hissed, feeling a little nauseated.

Revan said nothing, but pulled out the man's identification tags and held them up, rubbing away the blood with his gloved thumb. _Another one I've killed; how many does that make now?_ He placed the bloody tags into a pouch in his armor and felt them hit the bottom of the pocket, looking up at his companion as he stood.

"Let's move. This kill is fresh."

Bastila nodded and he saw her grip on the vibroblade tighten a little more. His promise to protect her resurfaced in his mind, and his resolve strengthened. He was not going to let mortal injury come to her as long as he had breath enough to ensure his promise. They set off at a jog again, the ice spikes making the going a little bit easier and Bastila fell into place next to him and just behind, as she had done before. Even though it was difficult to breathe and the danger they were in was very real, Bastila couldn't help but marvel at the powerful way Revan moved, even doing something as simple as running. There was an underlying hint of grace, but she knew she had yet to see the true skill he possessed with physical control – she had an undeniable feeling she would know well by the end of the next few hours, however.

The Dark Lord slowed, as did she, and HK's imposing figure came into view a second later. The droid's head was slowly rotating around, scanning repeatedly for any signs of life; Sante was ducked behind cover, as was the remaining member of the team. Revan approached slowly, extending a hand behind him, palm open, indicating to Bastila that she was to halt. Obeying silently, she watched Revan closely for a few seconds before letting her gaze rove around the relatively large tunnel, feeling a bit safer by doing her own sweep of the area for any signs of the animal. She heard Revan's deep, smooth voice, muffled somewhat, then HK's mechanized tones; as she looked around, the sound faded into the background noise she had been hearing in her head since finding that dead body.

Suddenly, something flitted in shadow and her breathing stopped; her grip on her weapon impossibly tight. A 'snick' was heard and the bobbing red dot of a laser sight flickered to life; HK stood motionless, Revan the same, both gazing intently into the murky, dimly lit corridor that stretched in front of them. Bastila's thoughts were careening noisily in her head, giving her no peace, adding to the din of noise that she was forced to shove down in order to concentrate – and it seemed she could not hold her concentration for long.

_What's wrong with me?_ she wondered. _I didn't have this problem facing Revan on his flagship…why now?_

The noise in her head was loud, but the silence that had settled around her was deafening. It stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity; no one moved, no one breathed, and no one dared speak. HK's head shifted a few degrees, barely enough to constitute movement, and Bastila felt the ground drop out from beneath her as his rough mechanical voice shattered the explosive silence.

"He is here, Master."

Revan's lightsaber snarled to life, giving the tunnel a crimson glow, seemingly foreshadowing the bloodshed to come.

"Where?" he asked, his voice a deep, terse whisper.

"Behi…." HK trailed and Revan's heart lurched painfully. "Incredulous observation: I have lost him, Master."

"Fuck," Revan breathed almost silently. Every muscle in his body was tense, hard, waiting in anticipation of the battle to come; his nerves, though steel, were on edge at the knowledge that he could not see or sense his enemy; his sole confidence and calm came from knowing his own skill as a Force-adept and mastery of numerous forms of lightsaber combat. If that could not save him from a single beast, then he deserved his bloody fate.

Bastila's heart was hammering in her chest, making it impossible – or so it seemed – for her to hear anything else. Her breathing was shallow, and despite the unbearable cold, she felt an icy bead of perspiration slip down the back of her neck. Her vision seemed to take on an impossible clarity, and she noticed every crack in the ice, every crystal in the wall, the murky grey of every shadow. She felt weak, but at the same time, felt ready to spring into action, the adrenaline pumping through her system forcefully and sending her body into overdrive.

Nothing had happened for an agonizingly tense few minutes – no more shifting shadows, no sounds, no sign of life at all.

A snarl erupted from the silence and a thump of padded feet on the snow followed, but still no sign of the beast. The soft crunch of snow shifting beneath a heavy weight came in a measured pattern, reaching their ears but giving no indication as to where the creature was. Sounds echoed in these caverns, and it was using that to its advantage. Again, all fell silent for a long while, everyone's senses painfully alert and perceptive for the attack they knew was sure to come. The prelude had ended, and the show was ready to begin. Now it was just a waiting game until the creature decided to raise the curtain.

* * *

Malak grunted in discontent as he paced around the area that had been set up as a makeshift camp. He had heard nothing from his master over the past hour, and he was beginning to worry. Revan's Force signature was still alive and strong, but that did not mean everything was running smoothly.

"Lord Malak?"

"What?" he snapped tensely.

"Are we to continue our patrols while the animal is down there?"

Malak glared at the man. "If you don't, I'll kill you myself. Get moving!"

The soldier's eyes went a little wide, and he gave a hasty half-bow as he exited. "Yes, Lord Malak. My apologies."

Malak returned his attention to the static-filled COM channel.

Nothing.

* * *

Revan glanced around himself quickly, still seeing nothing other than ice and snow, but _feeling_ the heavy gaze of the beast on his neck.

"Come on you bastard…." he muttered, "Come get me."

Again, nothing. Grunting in frustration, Revan spoke to everyone.

"Fall back to the main cavern – this tunnel is too enclosed. Sante…"

Sante nodded and went first, taking his partner with him and quickly but cautiously entering into the underground cave's main cavern; Revan and Bastila followed; HK was last, providing cover.

"Circle up," Revan ordered. Bastila was to his left, Sante behind him, the other soldier to his right; they were all facing slightly different directions and this provided the most expansive protection.

Apparently finding the new situation to his liking, the creature slid almost silently out from the shadows, behind all of them. Sante, facing that direction, felt his mouth go bone-dry and the man next to him let out a soft curse. Revan turned slowly, letting the tip of his lightsaber lower until it was pointing at the ground. Bastila turned as Revan did, her breath catching in her throat as she laid eyes on the beast.

It was roughly the size of a large Kath hound, but infinitely more muscular. Thick sinews rippled and flexed beneath a glossy white coat that was stained with a vibrant red. Revan snarled beneath his facemask as he saw the way the blood clung to the animal's coat, matting it, the red liquid becoming thick and viscous.

_Motherfucker - you'll pay for everyone you've killed. I'll enjoy gutting you and watching you die and the life leave your eyes…_

Bastila sensed a surge of dark hatred coming from Revan and she glanced back at her captor, surprised at the ominous intensity of his emotions. Seconds later though, her eyes were drawn back to the beast that was in front of them. Revan was inspecting the animal in the same way it was inspecting him; to make it fair, the Dark Lord reached a hand up and removed his facemask, dropping it to the snow and letting his face become visible to his enemy. The two adversaries' gazes never left one another, yellow boring into emerald.

_Yellow eyes are cold; the eyes of a murderer – just like mine._Revan's mouth curled into a snarl as he watched the beast's yellow irises flick to Bastila. **_You won't kill her; not today…not while I'm still alive and breathing. Try all you want it won't work._ **HK had been slowly inching forward but was halted as Revan's arm was thrust abruptly out, smacking against his metal chest.

"No. It's mine."

Sensing the mounting tension, the beast flexed the substantial lion-like claws that adorned its paws, shifting the snow a little, and crouched a tiny bit more, its lips curling back to reveal fangs the length of Revan's fingers and just as thick. Jutting out from above the paws like an opposable thumb were massive dew claws, at least six inches in length, if not more. Both were slick with crimson, as were the paws beneath. A thick, whip-like tail swished leisurely through the air behind it, belying the tail's strength and deadly capabilities.

Again, its ghoulish yellow eyes flitted to Bastila and Revan stepped forward defensively, commanding the beast's attention back to him. _I said no you bastard and I mean no. She's mine._ Now that he knew what his enemy looked like, Revan felt no thrills of fear course through his body at all – only the thrum of adrenaline, anticipation of battle, and the pulsing anger that waited to be unleashed for the deaths of his men and now, the creature's predatory claim on Bastila.

"Bastila, stay behind me at all times. HK, do not fire unless I say so – same goes for everyone else," he commanded, taking a step forward again, his green eyes glittering, as cold as the ice around them. "Let's go you sonofabitch…" he growled, finally bending his knees and dropping into a combative stance.

The beast snarled and slashed his tail through the air violently once, shifting and spreading his paws a little wider. With another vicious snarl, it leapt through the air with blinding speed, slashing at Revan who ducked and rolled out of the way. Regaining his footing, Revan's lightsaber hummed a path through the air as he slashed at the beast, barely catching it on its shoulder. It grunted in anger and skidded on snow, whirling around to face Revan; the combatants paused, and Revan brought a hand up to his neck, his glove coming away slippery with blood. A smirk spread across his mouth as he looked down at his glove. A small river of blood ran down his forehead from a lesser cut just above his hairline and he wiped at it, smearing the crimson liquid all down the right side of his face. His armor was splattered with blood from the beast's fur and his face was covered in it, one hand drenched with it, the droplets falling from the tips of his gloved fingers and staining the pure white snow.

The Dark Lord's sneer shifted to a feral, psychotic grin and his eyes shone with an unstable light from beneath his dark brows, his canines bared in much the same way the animal's were, the two enemies painted in red.

Bastila's breathing caught in her throat again, though not because of fear. There was something inexplicably…alluring and seductive about the way Revan was grinning with teeth bared, blood covering half of his face. It was disturbing, highly so, but yet somehow tempting; it was animalistic, feral, and it begged her to lose control as well.

Revan was forced to reevaluate his opponent after receiving his first two wounds. He looked more closely at the dew claws the animal possessed, and saw what he should have seen before – the animal was a head hunter. It came as no surprise then that it immediately went for his head. Giving a breathy snort, Revan twirled his lightsaber and pointed it at the animal, challenging it to come forward again.

It accepted the challenge, charging with another roar, darting in, striking at him and then leaping back out of the Dark Lord's reach. Revan avoided the beast's swipe and slashed at it, missing by a fraction of an inch just as the beast had missed him. This game continued on for a good while, one taunting the other; Revan waited until the creature leapt forward again and then acted, flinging it backwards and blasting it against the wall with a powerful Force wave. It screeched angrily, righting itself and bounding at Revan, leaping into the air, claws outstretched once more. The Sith Lord brought his lightsaber up to block the attack and a whining scream was heard as the energy blade scraped across the beast's unyielding claws, sparks flying off from the clash.

Bastila watched all of this in awe – the speed in which it took place was incredible. To Sante and the other soldier, it must've seemed like nothing more than two blurs, every now and then recognizable when the combatants paused and assessed each other or slowed in their attacks. HK's optical sensors would be calibrated for this, she figured, and her guess was correct. She had also been right about another thing – Revan's grace in battle was undeniable. The man moved fluidly, never making an awkward step or thrust, controlling the movements of his body with an ease that spoke volumes of his physical self-mastery and of his combat mastery as well; he was absolutely deadly with a lightsaber – Bastila had never seen such precision in action before. Even the Masters with whom she had trained had never been quite so crisp, or quite as consistent in their perfect movements; Revan was, and Bastila found that she knew this to be _right_.

It was right that he was more skilled than the Masters she knew and trusted; it was right that he moved with more grace than any Jedi she knew; right that he was the most lethal man in the galaxy, and yet, the most beautiful at his craft. Throughout her teaching, Bastila had often heard the metaphor of fighting as a "dance of death" – this was the metaphor at its purest form as she had yet to see it. Revan's grace and expertise were such that he made a lethal skill look alluring; he made it look…smooth. Like an art. And, in essence, Bastila knew it was.

Killing was not an easy thing to master, and Revan had not only mastered it, he had turned it into something fiendishly beautiful. As for the animal he fought: it possessed a raw, untamable grace, and the fiendish beauty that ran through Revan ran through the creature as well. The predatory way in which it moved was at once hypnotic and fearsome.

A snarl reached her ears, and Bastila first assumed it was from the beast, but she soon realized that it was not – it was coming from Revan's throat as he lunged at the creature, faking a hit to the left and swiping right at the last moment, catching it across the face; he demonstrated his incredible skill by precisely burning its eyes and nothing more. It screamed in anger, clawing at Revan blindly and missing. The smell of charred flesh and fur filled the air, and Bastila felt her stomach turn uneasily. Suddenly, the animal did a lunge of its own, pinning Revan against a huge stalagmite and sinking its teeth into the armor at the Dark Lord's collarbone/neck region. With a deep howl, Revan thrust his blade up through the animal's gut, groaning as its teeth sunk deeper into his right shoulder with the movement, blood dribbling out and falling in thick droplets from the fur around the creature's mouth, further staining Revan's white armor and the equally white snow around him.

Obviously, it wasn't completely helpless, as it had found and pinned him without using sight.

Shoving his lightsaber into the animal's torso seemed to have little effect except making it screech more and sink its teeth in harder. He felt its huge dew claws scraping at his breastplate, the pressure making it impossible to breathe. With a half-yell, half-grunt, Revan ripped his lightsaber out of the beast's body and rammed it upwards once more, feeling the slight pressure of resistance before burning crimson slid through the creature's gut again. It finally let go of the vice grip it had on Revan's shoulder and backed away, panting and snarling, knowing it was wounded and vulnerable now. Revan watched it sniff the air, then turn away from him and growl in the direction of his teammates; the first person that sprung to his mind was Bastila, and he shoved himself off of the now-bloodied stalagmite and took a step towards the beast.

_She's mine…_his brain growled angrily, possessively. _Stay away from her…_

The creature coiled to spring and Revan readied himself; it leapt, and he slammed it with the Force, but a sudden wave of dizziness hit him so hard that his control faltered, and he crashed to his knees. A man's horrified scream reached his ears, and when Revan regained his whited-out vision, he saw with a lurch of guilt that he had inadvertently directed the beast's aerial path directly to where the soldier who had been with Sante was standing. Now, the man was beneath the creature's huge, lethal claws, and was being mauled badly, blood splattering everywhere, the sound of fabric and flesh ripping mingling with the man's torturous shrieks and the beast's snarls. Sante was pumping rounds of laser fire into the creature's backside, and HK was peppering its head, but nothing seemed to have any effect. Suddenly, a gentle but firm pressure was tugging upward on his injured shoulder, causing him some pain; Revan directed his eyes upward and emerald met grey as he found himself gazing up into Bastila's concerned face. _Facemask gone - when did that happen? Could get hurt; she needs to turn around. Won't let her get hurt._

"Revan, get up," she urged gently, sending a soothing pulse of the Force through him to begin to mend his wounds. He was absolutely drenched in blood…and strangely, she did not care – it did not stop her from touching him, from wanting to help him up. Bastila heard him grunt as he grasped her forearm and struggled to his feet. He was hurting worse than he or his body knew, that much she could tell. The adrenaline was probably acting as a form of painkiller, she surmised, though he had to be feeling _something_.

Bastila was right – Revan was feeling something. That something was a burning pain in his shoulder, a sharp, throbbing ache in the joint there, a pounding in the base of his skull, and a tight, agonizing stitch in his left side every time he inhaled. But he was ignoring all of this at the moment. He had to think; he had to figure why this beast was not dying.

_Impaled it twice - still not dead…shot in the head - no affect…why the fuck is this thing still alive? It can't be invincible, nothing is. Weakness has to be somewhere…but what? Need to–_

And suddenly the answer hit him like a kick to his most likely broken ribs: the animal had a decentralized brain. It had to; there was no other explanation for why it could survive blaster shots to the head and lightsaber stab wounds to the gut – the only possible answer was that they had yet to find the brain. But where was it? They didn't have the time to try and stab the beast's entire body to find it.

Bastila was looking at Revan uneasily, not liking the way he was so calmly watching the animal maul one of his men. It was a look that said he had seen violence like this far too often to be shocked by it, or even moved by it, and Bastila felt her heart go out to the hardened, calloused man standing next to her. Again, another question surfaced in her mind: what had happened to him that he was so dead to violence that he did not even flinch at its brutality? Was violence done to him, or did he commit it against others to that great of a degree?

Revan felt her gaze palpably and wondered why she was staring at him, though it was a fleeting thought. A plan to kill the beast had formed in his mind and he executed it immediately. Shoving the beast away with the Force and crushing it against an ice-coated rock, Revan took a few steps forward and readied his lightsaber in his left hand, prepared to use his uninjured arm for this. The creature screeched and righted itself, its blind, seared eyes boring into Revan's burning emerald ones unseeingly. Picking up his left foot, Revan slammed the ice spikes on his boot down into the frozen ground, creating a noise for the beast to lock onto.

With another scream, it dug its claws into the ice and bounded in Revan's direction, staying on the ground this time. It did not matter to the Dark Lord whether the animal became airborne or if it stayed grounded, he just needed it to get close. And get close it did, coming at a direct path to his location. At the last moment, Revan sidestepped, thrusting his lightsaber out, the crimson blade perpendicular to the ground, right in the animal's way.

The hissing of cauterized flesh reached everyone's ears and the stench came soon after, permeating the air thickly. The creature, cleaved in two along a medial plane, collapsed to the ground, splitting into separate parts with a disturbing sucking sound, smoke curling in gentle wisps from its body. Revan deactivated his lightsaber, the crimson blade retreating into the silver cylindrical hilt in his bloodied hand. Without showing any signs of discomfort, or unease over the situation that was before him, the Sith Lord raised his hand to his ear – slowly, as his shoulder screamed in agony – and pressed on the earpiece still lodged there.

"Malak, get down here."

* * *

Revan looked down at his injured trooper and reached for the medical kit Bastila had set down by her side.

_So much blood – gotta stop the bleeding before he loses too much…horrible copper smell reminds me of Malachor V; sea of red. Gotta stem the bleeding…large gash…blood spurting; the artery is severed…only a few minutes before he bleeds out…need to apply pressure_.

From the kit he pulled a large gauze pad and a bandage and begun ripping off the plastic packaging. He turned to Bastila who was already ripping away the sleeve of the soldier's uniform all the way up to the shoulder – exposing the gash in all its horrific glory.

"Bastila, I need you to block the artery above the wound to slow the bleeding – do you know where to find it?" he asked quickly.

Bastila nodded and adjusted her position so she was kneeling next to the soldier's injured arm.

"On the inside of the biceps muscle – I've got it," she said grasping the man's upper arm and using her thumb to apply forceful pressure.

Within seconds, the furious spurting slowed, and Revan got to work applying the gauze and binding the wound tightly. When the job was complete he sat back on his haunches and swiped his brow with the crook of his arm – succeeding in smearing more blood on his face. Looking down he noticed his blood covered hands and found himself staring at them; transfixed.

_Isn't this poetic justice – finally have blood on my hands both figuratively and literally._ He forced down the urge to laugh insanely. _How many of my men suffered this same fate, the one I've condemned them all to? Thousands? Millions? How many more will suffer before I'm done? Is it worth it – worth the lies and deceit – worth destroying Malak…_Revan glanced at his apprentice briefly. _Deceitful bastard…he's not even fazed by all this. Standing there emotionless**.**_ His gaze shifted to the young woman in front of him. _Not like her, so caring, so calm…_

From nearby he faintly heard Bastila yell for some thermal blankets but he was too lost in his thoughts to pay any attention.

**_Is this it – am I finally cracking? Knew it would come one day but not this soon. No can't break too much to do can't stop yet. Horrible smell – what makes it so foul?_ **He wiped his sticky hands on his pant legs and turned his attention back to the injured soldier. He was now wrapped in a thermal blanket with Bastila holding his arm up in the air._ Force he's so pale, must be going into shock, smart girl for picking that up. _

Suddenly Bastila's voice broke through his thoughts, and the fog that had settled over his mind cleared.

"Revan, if we don't get him out of here soon and into the care of a trained healer he's either going to die from shock or bloodloss. I can slow it a bit but if we don't get him somewhere warm fast I'd say he has an hour tops," she whispered forcefully.

The Sith Lord glanced down at the man, frowning. "He has other injuries as well – I'd cut that time in half." He paused. "Slow the bleeding as much as you can."

Bastila noted the odd tone to his voice – a tone that almost conveyed compassion and concern – and nodded, setting about her task with the utmost concentration. Revan was right: the man had other wounds as well, though none as severe as his severed artery. When the beast had begun to maul him, his armor had protected him for the most part, but he had suffered some shallow flesh wounds. Still, those could prove lethal when combined with this murderous cold and a bleeding, open artery.

Once she had sufficiently stowed the river of blood that had been pouring out of the man's arm to a mere feeble spurt here and there, Bastila let her gaze wander until she found Revan. She watched him walk stiffly over to two men and order them to do something; he was obviously in an incredible amount of pain. He was severely favoring his right shoulder, keeping it as immobile as possible. This was smart of him, and Bastila admired his ability to think rationally even when in difficult situations. She glanced around again and saw that HK was serving as a single-unit patrol; Sante had joined the two men Revan had ordered, and all three of them were walking over to where she was kneeling.

"We've been ordered to transport him to the surface," Sante told her, kneeling as well.

Bastila nodded. "Get him somewhere warm as quickly as you can. He can't hold out for much longer."

Sante returned her nod with a briefer one. "Understood."

The three men gently picked up the injured soldier and transferred him to a stretcher, hauling him off seconds later. Bastila noticed the efficiency with which they did this and wondered if it was because of practice or real-life application – she assumed the latter, frowning in distaste. As she stood lost in her thoughts, her subconscious led her feet to where Revan was standing alone. He looked up at her and Bastila felt her mouth hang open for a nanosecond, his soulful green eyes not failing to take her breath away though they were not a new sight.

"Something wrong?" he grunted. _He's in a lot of pain…_her mind reminded her, seeing the signs of agony clearly written all over his body: his tightly drawn mouth, the white-grey hue his skin had taken on, the clipped way with which he spoke, the way his shoulders slumped, the way he favored his right one, cradling it against his body.

"You're injured too," she stated.

He snorted. "Yes, I am. How observant of you."

Bastila frowned. "Don't be an arse – I'm trying to help you."

Revan sighed. "Help me with what? I've tried to heal this already. We need to get to the surface." His voice had lowered to a mumble. _I'm about to collapse where I stand…need to get to a bed...need…her to help me…No – I can do this on my own._ His brain was now slowing down, though he did not know why. His injury was not overly severe, but it seemed as if he was being sucked of all life and energy the longer he left the wound untreated.

"What about the…" she paused, glancing back in obvious distaste, "…the carcass?"

Revan glanced back as well; he turned and barked, "Malak! Bag the animal; bring it up to the surface. I want to inspect it."

Malak's dark side-dimmed brown irises showed hesitation and indignancy but the taller man quickly went about his task. "Yes Master."

Revan did not speak as he turned and walked slowly to the hole that they had descended through, grasping the blaster that contained the cord that had held him once already and clipping it to his gauntlet once more. Extending his uninjured hand to Bastila, he watched and felt her slide her smaller hand into his and step into him, their armored bodies touching. Wrapping his injured arm gingerly around her waist, he made sure the blaster was hooked securely to his healthy arm, extended his arm above his head, and drew them back up the cable as quickly as the mechanism would allow.

Bastila hooked both of her arms around his neck and held on tightly but gently, not wishing to cause him any more pain. The fact that she was once again within close physical proximity to him did not pass her by, and the realization was made so much worse by the seemingly weak control she had over her emotions and desires now that she could experience him properly through the Force. She again felt the need to be able to have him beneath her hands, to feel his skin beneath her fingertips, feel his warmth, his strength…Bastila closed her eyes tightly and forced herself to stop thinking about Revan that way; instead, she concentrated on his injuries. His right shoulder had, from what she could see, numerous puncture wounds from where the creature had bitten him, and there were at least two gashes around his head and neck area that were still leaking blood. His shoulder was flowing liberally with the red liquid, and Bastila watched it soak into her own white armor with the strange notion that it was linking her to him.

_Force he must be in agony…dizzy from bloodloss - those wounds need to be covered – can't risk overexposure to the cold he'll go into hypovolemic **and** hypothermic shock too if he's not careful._

They made it out of the hole and found a small snow-transport waiting for them at the entrance of the cave. Revan said nothing as he climbed atop it, letting his head fall back and his eyes close. Bastila sat down next to him, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. His emerald irises flickered open for a moment, sliding from her hand to her eyes and she held his gaze calmly, slowly removing her hand from his arm. His eyes closed and his head slumped back again, bobbing gently with each bump and rock of the transport; Bastila watched him wince and grit his teeth each time they hit a mogul or the craft lurched in any way, the pain he was in evident to her keen gaze though he hid it well.

They arrived back at the camp and she attempted to help Revan off of the transport, but he gently buffeted her hand away and slowly, as every joint was on fire, lowered his feet to the snow, grasping the back of the craft to keep his balance. Frowning, Bastila came around to his good side and propped her shoulder beneath his armpit, forcing him to use her. She did not know why she felt such a frustrating urge to aid him, but it was an urge she could not deny. The going was rather slow, but the two of them made it back to Revan's biosphere and stepped inside, infinitely grateful for the temperature difference – it was bearably cold, almost warm, opposed to the lethal frost outside.

_Who's that? What is he doing here? What are those? He had better not try anything…_

These thoughts ran through Bastila's head as she noticed a man already inside of the room, standing over a small table with various instruments on it, all of which looked medical in nature. The man glanced up and she saw that he had brown eyes that were deeply set, dark, but that shone with a kinder light than she had seen in weeks. The man sighed heavily and shook his head.

"Revan, why must you try get yourself killed? Sit down."

The Dark Lord grunted something unintelligible and slid into a seat without further protest.

_Must be a doctor – hope he knows what he's doing I can treat these wounds myself…Revan probably doesn't know that or doesn't trust me enough._ Bastila concentrated on the doctor as his brown eyes rested on her again. He was smiling gently and he motioned for her to come over to where he was standing over Revan.

"If you would help me please, Bastila, I would much appreciate it." She halted in surprise and the doctor's smile persisted. "Yes, I know who you are. I am privy to most things in Revan's life – I am his doctor, psychiatrist, advisor and father, if you will. Come, help me get this armor off of him."

_Revan's advisor and father?_ Bastila paused in her thoughts to slow them and keep them clear and concise. _I wonder if he has the answers to my questions…but would it be right to ask him? Would that be fair to Revan? I don't know, I – _

"Bastila!" the doctor spoke tersely but softly, snapping her attention back to the present. "I realize you have likely just been through substantial trauma, but Revan is not out of danger – he could die, and these wounds cannot get infected. As it is, he already seems to be contracting a fever. Neither of us wants or needs him to expire."

Bastila found it interesting the choice of words he used and looked at him a little more closely as she began to help unfasten the straps and buckles of the Dark Lord's armor. The man who was so many things to Revan was a solid man, about six feet tall, filled out, not brawny but athletic. He had sharp, intelligent features – dark eyes that shone with an inquisitive light, a high forehead that gave the appearance of a magnanimous mind, a brow that seemed weighted but capable of bearing more, a mouth that was set in an almost stern line that hinted it could slide into a smile under the right circumstances, and a mutedly firm jaw that suggested veiled stubbornness.

"I assure you that I will do my best to care for him."

Bastila's focus sharpened and she gave an embarrassed "Sorry" as she averted her eyes and helped the doctor slide Revan's armor off of his body – with Revan's help, of course. The Sith Lord was still conscious, though very sluggish, and he did his best to aid Bastila and the doctor in their care for him. The doctor was frowning, Bastila noticed, and his frown did not convey anything close to a possibility of hope – that frown was a harbinger of morbid news.

"I don't understand it…" he muttered. "He's already in the throes of a full blown fever – a kind of fever that takes hours, days even, to mature. He's losing consciousness, and his wounds just look…" He trailed, shaking his head and pressing his lips tightly together. Obviously, this was not a normal case in the least. Bastila felt somewhat helpless and in the way, and it seemed the doctor sensed this.

"Bastila, if you would please, get this thermal suit off of him – and whatever undergarment he has on underneath – while I retrieve some more supplies. I have a feeling this won't be a routine case at all."

A flush spread across her porcelain skin as she realized what the doctor was asking of her; she was supposed to undress Revan? Completely? Clenching her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose for a split second to relieve the tension pounding through her skull, Bastila set about her task as objectively as she could. She half-knelt in front of Revan and his green eyes slid open slowly, dull and heavy, locking with her worried grey ones.

"Do what he says," he murmured, lifting his large hands and unzipping his thermal suit. She watched him do this and her heart went out to him – his movements were so very slow, so pained…

Gently pushing his hands away, she grasped his zipper and finished its course, sliding her fingers back up to the neck of the thermal suit and pushing it backwards and down. Revan sat up some and pulled his arms out, taking the initiative to shove the suit down past his hips himself before half-collapsing back on the edge of the bed. Bastila tugged it down and all the way off, depositing the garment on the floor and pausing. This was as much skin as she had ever seen of Revan's, and now she had to expose more – the thought was unsettling and exciting, and the need to feel him surged forward again at this perfect opportunity.

With trembling hands, she placed her hands on his chest uncertainly; he looked up, feeling her trembling.

_She's shaking…looks scared but why? Looks confused…what's she touching me for; oh that…here…_

Revan's thoughts were jumbled and running together more than usual and so it took him a few moments of staring at her to realize what she was doing. With a slow movement, he brought his hands up and untucked his undershirt for her, saving her the trouble. Listlessly, his arms dropped and swung for a short while before stilling at their new spot – hanging down beside the chair.

Her hands still shaking, Bastila cautiously grasped at the hem of his skintight shirt and tugged upwards, pulling the black, satin-like fabric up to his chest before her progress was stopped by his arms. Gently tugging, she forced him to lift his arms and she slipped his shirt up and over his head, completely off of him soon afterwards. Her breathing was shallow, her lips parted, her eyes slightly wide – she was utterly enraptured by the sight that was slowly being revealed to her eyes.

Revan's skin was pale, a light shade of milky white, and it appeared smooth and soft. Bastila immediately noticed that she had just gained an answer to a previously posed question – his tattoo extended from just above his left elbow, up his arm to his shoulder, then expanded to cover the back of his shoulder to the bottom of his shoulder blade, and the front of his chest, marking his left pectoral. She noted that his tattoo seemed to circle around his left nipple, drawing her attention there; she ignored the powerful urge to touch where his tattoo led her to. It was an intense shade of black; the design was tribal, ancient…powerful and archaic, beautiful; the lines curved over and crossed through one another, sharp tipped, strong lines that were bold and defined. His tattoo contrasted so greatly with his pale skin that it made it all the more prominent, all the more tempting to Bastila.

She noticed then that the muscle the tattoo rested over was very well-defined and her attention was then shifted to his physique. Revan was large – standing at a full 6'2", if not slightly more – and his body was proportionate to a man of his stature. His shoulders were broad and strong, the muscles tastefully apparent there; his arms were nicely defined, as was his chest – not overly so, but well enough to proclaim their strength; his stomach was toned, the muscles beneath the skin causing a slight ripple that made Bastila's fingers ache with a longing to touch him. She took in the whole picture of him, in wonder at how a man could get so very close to perfection – and then she noticed his scars. There were more than she had anticipated, and many that looked more painful than she cared to think about.

Bastila felt a flush cover her face as Revan slowly raised his head and met her eyes with a knowing look in them. She averted her gaze and it came to rest on the wounds in his right shoulder and his blood-soaked skin there. Finally letting herself touch him, she placed a hand near the middle of his chest, below his neck, as close to his shoulder as she dared. His skin was warm – too warm, on account of the fever he was apparently contracting – and as she had suspected, smooth. Bastila felt his heartbeat thumping erratically in his chest, and his shallow, shaky breaths beneath her palm; her own heartbeat was almost as crazy as his, racing upon her contact with his skin and the knowledge that she was touching him in almost the way she wanted to be able to.

Forcing herself to push those new, unexplainably lustful thoughts out of her brain, she concentrated on his condition – and his wounds. She hesitated, unsure of what to do. She could begin to treat his wounds, or she could leave them for the doctor when he returned. The doctor had seemed worried, she recalled, and Bastila figured it was best that she not attempt to tamper with his shoulder wounds. Instead, she got up quickly and retrieved a cloth, filling a bowl with cool water and returning to Revan, who was watching her with half-glazed eyes. She dipped the cloth into the cool water and gently began to clean the blood away from his face and neck, being as gentle as she possibly could. His eyes slid shut as she did this, and he relaxed some; Bastila hoped she was giving him some small amount of comfort, alleviating his pain even a small amount.

Her compassion could not be stifled, even for this man; this cold, cruel, harsh man whom she found deserved and benefited from her compassion the most. Revan appreciated it; Revan saw it as the true act of deep kindness, of mercy, empathy that it was.

* * *

Revan had never deteriorated so rapidly in his life, and the feeling was awful. His body just shut down, stopped functioning altogether, and his brain went into self-preservation mode, slowing to a near comatose state more quickly than he could've ever anticipated. He was able to hold off the downward spiral of his health until he stepped into his biosphere and saw his doctor – and then it all came crashing down. His body screamed in agony, his internal temperature seesawed between freezing cold and sauna-like hot causing him to shiver though his body was covered with a sheen of sweat, and his joints were consumed with a lancing, fiery aching each time he shifted.

The doctor's and Bastila's voices were mostly background noise, muffled and unintelligible unless he forced himself to concentrate on them – and that hurt his head too much to do for prolonged periods of time. During one of his more lucid moments, Revan heard his doctor order Bastila to disrobe him, and almost instantly a large wave of foreign anxiety filled the recesses of his mind. He forced his eyes open and found Bastila staring worriedly back at him. He sensed the doctor leave after a few minutes, leaving Bastila alone with him. What was she nervous about? She was just taking off his shirt – was that something to be anxious over? Revan did not know, but he figured he would aid her as much as he could; after all, she had been helping him for the past half-hour and he guessed he owed her a small favor in return.

Grunting with effort, he lifted his abused arms to grapple with the zipper at the front of his thermal suit; but found his hands quickly batted away. Relief washed over him as he gratefully lowered his aching arms and watched his new attendant with half-lidded eyes. Despite the fever slowly ravaging his body, and the burning ache radiating from his mangled shoulder, Revan couldn't help but be transfixed by the way this beautiful woman moved: The way she hesitated for the tiniest of seconds before she tugged the zipper down the rest of the way to his waist; the way she drew her bottom lip between her teeth as her fingers slid back up his chest to the neck of his suit, and the way her eyebrows drew together slightly when she accidentally grazed the skin of his waist with her fingertips.

Had he not felt like death warmed over, he would have listed it as one of _the_ most sensual experiences of his life – watching this stunning and capable woman slowly strip him – despite the fact that, to her, it was a completely platonic situation. He grimaced as a wave of pain coursed along every nerve – setting his body on fire – and pushed his lecherous thoughts to the back of his mind for examination at a later date. It was after he had ridden out the pain that he noticed Bastila had stopped, and was glancing fleetingly at the waistband of his shorts. Trying to make her feel more comfortable about the whole scenario, Revan yanked his skintight undershirt out from his also skintight black, almost knee length long underwear and then let his arms hang limply at his sides.

He closed his eyes, and as he felt her trembling hands resting on his chest; his brows furrowed. Was this really that nerve-wracking for her? And if so, why? That was about as far as his brain could take the thought train, however, and his thoughts faded into nothingness a few moments later.

As he sat there, watching and feeling her slowly strip him and then stare – a fact which made him somewhat uncomfortable, even in his half-lucid state – he sensed a deep concern emanate from Bastila, and it baffled him. Why should she feel compassion for him? He had kidnapped her, slapped a Force-suppression collar on her, threatened her, and dragged her to a perilously cold planet to put her life in danger. Yet she seemed to still find it within herself to care about him…to care _for_ him, maybe? Revan clenched his jaw some, banishing that absurd thought. No one cared for him. He was unlovable, only good for passing on pleasure and carnal indulgence. But his fever ravaged brain was not entirely coherent – or sane, for that matter – and thoughts like that kept assaulting him, careening mercilessly around in his pounding skull. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking…

Whereas earlier, his thoughts had simply dissipated, now, it seemed as if he was laid mentally bare inside of his own head. Everything he wanted, needed, or desired flashed through the passages of his mind, bringing up painful memories, aching longings, and unfulfilled yearnings.

The disturbing thing was, he felt as if he was not alone in his own head. And he knew just who to blame for that.

_Scars…_

That thought was not his own, and Revan opened his dulled emerald eyes to meet Bastila's unusually clouded grey irises, knowing that it was her accented voice that had slid into his mind. A flush covered her perfect skin and her eyes broke from his, looking at something else.

He felt her hand on his chest, and the sensation was amplified somehow, her fingertips cool and soothing on his hot, sticky skin, her touch calming to his frenzied brain. And he knew why. With the ability to question himself gone, Revan knew with complete certainty something that he had refused to accept mere hours before. The realization did not scare him as much as he thought it would; rather, he was surprisingly pleased with the discovery – as long as he could control it, that was. If it proved a liability, he did not know what he would do. Though there was a part of him that seemed to be watching all of this from the outside, laughing at his stupidity, at the irrationality of feelings. Revan was too far gone to grasp that part of him and try to hold on and regain his sanity.

As Bastila's hand rested on his chest, over his collarbone, her fingertips at his neckline and her palm barely reaching his chest, Revan felt an odd, aching longing emanating from her and it confused him greatly. She wanted something very badly…but…_what?_ His control over his mind was too erratic to try and probe hers, but it seemed that he didn't have to – she was so stressed, and so shocked from her own feelings, he could tell, that she was not doing a very good job of hiding them. Revan realized that the longing he was feeling from her had something to do with him, but he could not perceive any more than that, it was too vague to pinpoint.

At that moment, he felt her hand leave his skin and he opened his eyes, missing her touch already. It perplexed him for only a moment that he enjoyed her hands on him; then, his fever took over again and he was too sick to care. He watched her go into the kitchen and return with a cloth and a bowl of water. Bastila dipped the cloth into the water and tenderly touched it to his neck; the water was mercifully cool and he closed his eyes, more grateful for her at that moment than he could've expressed in words if he had been able to speak coherently. Revan noted the gentleness with which she wiped at his cuts, cleaning his bloodstained skin and trying to comfort him. After a short while, however, he could no longer feel the coolness of the water, or the softness of her caring touch and his brain panicked for a split second before it too shut off, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Bastila dropped the bowl of water and desperately grabbed Revan's form as he slumped off the chair, grunting as the full force of his weight hit her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and cradling him as gently as she could manage, her calm demeanor now shattered. It scared her to witness him like this, a man whom she had come to see as the epitome of strength and resiliency so helpless and vulnerable. She struggled a bit under his weight and softly lowered him to the floor, keeping his head in her hands while she frowned and prayed for the doctor to return soon.

As if hearing that prayer, the man burst into the biosphere at that very moment, tugging with him a cartful of medical supplies – most of which they would need in the days to come.

"Oh damn…" the doctor muttered, sliding on the wet floor as he ran to where Bastila was and knelt down next to her. His eyes darkened as he studied Revan's unconscious form. "Help me get him onto the bed," he ordered, his voice strained. Bastila sensed that this man cared for Revan greatly, and was glad he was here. The two of them hoisted the Dark Lord's powerful frame up and onto the bed, laying him out as if for an autopsy, she noted with a bitter taste in her mouth.

The doctor gently swatted her away as he came over to inspect Revan's mauled shoulder, taking a blood sample almost at the same time he was flipping switches on a vitals monitoring machine he had carted in. Bastila watched in awe at the rapidity and alacrity with which the doctor went about his work; quickly inserting an intravenous port into the back of his hand, attaching it to a bag of saline solution and quickly but thoroughly attaching leads and machinery to monitor his vitals.

"His heart rate's too low and his blood pressure's hit his boots, but for now, he's remarkably stable," the doctor said with obvious displeasure. Injecting a dose of drugs to the IV port, the doctor watched with relief as Revan's heart rate rose to an acceptable level and stayed. He sighed, stuck a hand in his hair, and turned to the female Jedi in the room. "I don't like how Revan's condition is progressing – there must've been some kind of natural poison in the animal's system, and it's reacting extremely negatively to Revan's immune system, shutting everything down." He took another glance at the openly seeping wounds on Revan's face, neck and shoulders. "And by the look of those, I'd say that the toxin – or whatever it is – has an anticoagulant in it."

Bastila shifted uncomfortably. This situation was never something she had anticipated having to deal with. "So what do you suggest we do?" she asked quietly, her gaze locked on Revan's form, watching his strong chest rise and fall gently.

"You'll have to watch him at all times," the doctor said honestly. "Take care of him – he needs you. I _must_ find out what is killing him."

Bastila blanched. "Killing him?" she repeated shakily.

"His immune system is shutting down…" he said gravely. "It's killing him."


	7. Chapter 7

Well, new chapter's here! Again, thanks to EM for editing things and helping out with the medical stuff - couldn't do it without ya! Relationship/character progression chapter here; no action, sorry guys.

As always, read and review! Your feedback is much appreciated, and always considered.

* * *

Bastila took a shaky breath and watched the doctor leave the biosphere, blood sample in hand. Her gaze shifted back to Revan's unconscious, bleeding, _dying_ form, and she swallowed, moving to the side of the bed he was closest to. Bastila felt weak, afraid…helpless. Despite all that, she couldn't help the wry smile that spread across her face as she realized this was the _second_ time Revan's life had been on the brink of demise in her presence.

She'd saved him once – would she do it again?

Bastila sighed and answered her question with an affirmative. Yes, she would save him again.

"_No one deserves death, no matter what their crimes."_ The quote echoed loudly in her mind, strengthening her resolve.

Revan may have been a murderer on a massive scale, but he was still a man with a soul – a soul that Bastila had seen glimpses of – and she could not condone letting him die. She frowned as she noticed a small trickle of blood leaking out from the cut across his forehead. Retrieving a clean cloth, she wiped away the blood, pulling up a chair next to the bed and sinking down into it.

As she gazed down at Revan, she realized that he looked…calm, when he slept. Not innocent, not vulnerable, but no longer troubled, as if the storm raging inside had quieted to allow him a few moments of respite. He no longer looked angry, or dangerous like he did when he was awake. The power that radiated from him even as he was unconscious was enough to remind Bastila of how dangerous he was, but as she studied him, she found that everything that was previously harsh about him now seemed softer, like it could be used gently or tenderly.

She wiped another dribble of blood away, this one from the cut on his neck, and carefully brushed his hair away from his forehead, making sure it did not get in the cut there. His skin was sticky and hot, attesting to the fever ravaging his body. His chest rose and fell shallowly; Bastila placed her hand over his heart and felt its erratic rhythm. Sighing again, she got up from her seat and picked up the bowl she had dropped when Revan passed out.

Refilling it with cool water, Bastila returned to Revan's side and dabbed his skin with a water-soaked washcloth. The water mingled with the light sweat that covered his body, making his skin glisten beneath the light of the biosphere. She watched as it pooled in any dip in his body and clung to some curves – between his abdominals, in his navel, on his chest, on a vein here and there on his arms, in the hollow of his neck, on his lips…

Bastila wondered if Revan thought of her in the same way, if his gut impulses worked without his mind's consent, as hers did when she looked at him. She was certain it was likely worse for him; he was a man, and Bastila knew men were visual creatures. What did he see when he looked at her? Was she nothing more than visual stimulation for him? Bastila found that she was inclined to disagree with this train of thought. He might have noticed things about her as she did him, but she had never caught Revan truly inspecting her as one would inspect a belonging. His eyes had never roved over her in pure lust, or lingered far too long on an area they shouldn't. Surprisingly, Bastila felt a twinge of disappointment at that realization. He had looked at her appraisingly and clinically, but she had yet to catch him watching her in a way that was less than 'strictly professional.'

Bastila had to hand it to him – he was good at keeping himself in check. Or, at least, good at keeping himself in check when she was watching him. But what thoughts went through his head? She wasn't sure that she wanted to know. As it was, hers were becoming harder to keep…unaffected, by the pull he seemed to have on her, and she did not want to assume anything about his. Was this pull a one-way feeling? Bastila knew from his own admission that he wanted to sleep with her…but what exactly did that mean? Was that simply an acknowledgement that he wished to have her for physical pleasure and nothing more? Was Revan even capable of anything more? He _had_ shown her tenderness before…but did that mean anything at all?

So many questions…and still so many that remained unanswered.

"Why do you have to be so damn confusing?" she asked aloud to his unconscious form. "Why are there so many things I don't understand about you? The Council said you were one-dimensional – an evil, conquering warlord bent on destroying the Republic – but they couldn't have been more wrong. Why…" her voice lowered to a whisper. "…why can't I ignore you? Why can't I ignore _this_?"

"Revan does tend to have that affect on people," the doctor's calming voice said from behind her.

Bastila started and whipped her head around, her cheeks flushing a brilliant reddish hue. "How long were you there?"

The doctor smiled softly, indicating he meant to be no threat. "Long enough to realize that you're stuck in a problem you don't know how to fix. Right?"

Bastila stared at him for a while before nodding soundlessly. "Yes…you are right. I have never been in this position before," she admitted. "It's…unnerving, to say the least."

"Been in what position? Wanting someone you're supposed to hate?" the doctor said forwardly.

Bastila felt her blush return stronger than before. "I wouldn't put it so…bluntly as that, but to a degree…yes."

"Why are you supposed to hate him, if I may ask?"

Bastila frowned lightly as she glanced back at Revan, dabbed at his seeping wounds, and turned back to the doctor. "I'm supposed to hate him because I am a Jedi and he is a Sith. We are polar opposites…and opposites do not mix. Good and evil do not coincide."

"Don't they?" the doctor countered. "Look at the universe. Is there not good and evil everywhere you turn? And though good and evil conflict constantly, do they not coexist together?"

Bastila opened her mouth, but paused. "I…suppose you are right. I guess what I meant is they do not exist together peaceably."

"No, they do not. But just because Revan is supposed to be "evil" doesn't mean you have the right to hate him," the doctor challenged.

"And I don't. I can't. I hate what he has done, the countless thousands he has killed…but I cannot hate _him_." Bastila paused. "I was taught to see him as a faceless, soulless monster, but he is not that…"

The doctor's soft smile was back. "No, he is not, is he?"

Bastila shook her head. "To be honest…I was shocked when I found out he was a _man_. That he had a soul, a conscience…that he had the capacity for mercy, kindness and compassion…."

The doctor noticed the pauses between her words and realized she was thinking them over carefully. "Revan is an enigma to you, I am assuming?"

Bastila sighed in exasperation. "Yes, he is! And I just can't figure him out. One moment he's cold and cruel, and the next he's pledging to keep me safe. I don't understand him. He's a walking contradiction."

Bastila watched the man across from her sigh and place his intertwined fingers over his mouth, thinking. "I can't tell you what goes on in Revan's mind, because frankly, I don't know. What I can tell you is that Revan believes – _truly_ believes – that what he is doing is best for the Republic. He believes that there is no other way to save it – he must destroy it and rebuild it in order to keep it alive, to keep it safe. This is his driving ideal. This is what keeps him going." The older man paused. "Dark side, Light side…Revan is a bit of both, if much more on the darker side of the scale at the moment. That does not mean his compassion or capacity for emotion is lost. He still feels very strongly, he is just very adept at burying his emotions, at hiding them from others so that he does not get hurt or so that he will not show any weakness." He took a breath. "Revan has been out of touch with his emotions for a while, so the way he reacts may seem counterintuitive to you."

Bastila was silent, listening raptly to the doctor's words. His explanation made things clearer, but still did not answer many of her questions. And so, she posed another one. "I…don't mean to pry, but there are things that he has said to me, things that hint about events in his past. How much would be safe for you to tell me?"

The doctor sat back in his chair and eyed her warily. "That…that is certainly a dangerous subject. Revan is very close-mouthed about his past, and for reasons that are his own. He has told me many things in confidence, but as to what I can or will divulge to you…I'm not sure. Ask your questions, and I'll answer what I can."

Bastila nodded, grateful for the mere chance to know. Taking a breath, she tried to remember all the things she wanted to know. The first thing that came to mind was out of her mouth before she had a chance to realize what it sounded like.

"Has Revan tried to commit suicide before?"

The doctor blinked, taken slightly aback by that question. He sighed and stood, walking over to where Revan was laying on the bed. Taking the unconscious man's head into his hands, he gently tilted it back until the bottom of Revan's chin was visible. Pointing his index finger to a spot on his chin, the doctor spoke.

"Do you see that mark?"

Bastila leaned closer and saw through the thick stubble that shadowed his chin what looked like a circular burn mark. "Yes…"

"Revan put a blaster where that scar is and pulled the trigger. The gun misfired and he only succeeded in melting his skin, muscle, and part of the underside of his tongue. A week of kolto fixed that."

Bastila blinked and swallowed. So he _had_ attempted to commit suicide. But why? "Did he tell you why he did it?"

The doctor sighed and let Revan's head back down gently. "You have no idea what Revan has been through – no one does but himself; I don't, and he has told me more than anyone else. His reasons for trying to end his life are his own, and he has not allowed me to know."

Bastila nodded, believe the doctor; pausing for a brief moment, she posed her next question. "Revan told me that he had been forced to wear a Force suppression collar. When was that?"

The doctor gave a bitter laugh. "You might want to get the story from Revan himself. All I'll say is that it was during the Mandalorian Wars; in one of the times he was captured and held as a prisoner of war. Ask only if you are not squeamish."

Bastila's brows furrowed and she nodded hesitantly. Obviously, that was not a pleasant story in the least. "I suppose I should wait and ask him what happened to change him from the greatest Jedi Knight the galaxy had seen in decades to the most powerful Dark Lord of the Sith that had been seen in centuries?"

The man across from her nodded. "Yes. _That_ is an interesting story. If Revan tells you, I think you will learn a lot about him as a man from it."

Bastila glanced down at Revan and wiped away the blood from his leaking wounds again. "Assuming he wakes up again to tell me."

The doctor's face was hard-set. "I'm not going to let him die. He's worked too hard for all of this…and I owe him my life many times over. He will wake up."

* * *

(Four days later)

"Dammit!"

Bastila barely cringed as the data pad slammed into the floor and shattered. "Negative?"

"Yes!" The doctor paced around the lab furiously. "What the hell is wrong? It should work! But every time we inject him with the anti-toxin he gets better for a few hours but then just continues to deteriorate anyway. I don't understand it!"

"Maybe we're going at this the wrong way. Maybe it's not a toxin…Are you sure there was nothing else abnormal on the blood smears?" Bastila inquired.

The doctor frowned slightly at the implied insult to his laboratory skills. "Nothing that jumped out at me. We can run the tests again if it would put your mind at ease. I have a fresh sample that we can put under the microscope." He glanced up at his young companion and noted the far-off look on her face. "I know that look…do you have an idea of what's going on?" he questioned.

Bastila's eyes snapped back into focus and she frowned. "No, just a theory."

When it became obvious that the young Jedi wasn't going to elaborate, the doctor gently prompted, "Which is…?"

Bastila looked momentarily nervous. "Well, there must be a reason why the anti-toxin isn't neutralizing the source of the infection. I figure that's because the toxin isn't the primary problem, it's a side effect of the main pathogen which is probably a –"

"A parasite!" the doctor finished in awe; Bastila nodded. "That would make sense… but why wouldn't it show up on the original tests?"

Bastila shrugged, massaging her pounding head with thumb and forefinger. "I'm not sure… maybe the infection level was too low. If we took the blood sample before the parasite had a chance to reproduce, there's a possibility that we didn't draw up enough blood to catch one of the little blighters. I still think it's worth running a second test; even if it is a long shot."

"Agreed." The doctor disappeared for perhaps half a minute and returned with the needed materials. He and Bastila worked quickly to prepare everything, and they soon found themselves gazing down at magnified images of Revan's blood.

Both noticed the abnormality at the same time and pulled back to look at one another. Bastila was the first to go back to the magnified image. Red blood cells were plentiful, but what caught her eye was the presence of many dark, deep blue…_creatures_ swimming around in the blood.

"There you are…" she breathed, relief washing over her. "Certainly looks like a parasite…"

The doctor was silent for a few moments. "But what kind?"

"I don't know, but it's taken over some of his cells already and…it looks like it's mutated them. I can't tell if they're still alive though."

"The mutated cells? They're still alive. You would see the body trying to rid itself of them if they were dead, but there's no sign of that at all."

"True," Bastila admitted.

The doctor stood up and backed away from the microscope. "But is it the mutation that's killing Revan? Or is it the –"

"Get over here!" She interrupted, motioning wildly. "It's secreting something! What's a bet that's our toxin?"

The doctor moved faster than he had in years and was staring down Bastila's microscope within two seconds. She was right…it _was_ secreting something. Something that was causing all of the red blood cells in the vicinity to rupture – and then it began to feed on the carnage. He let out a heavy sigh. "_That's_ what's killing him…"

"Well then let's find a way to stop it."

The doctor looked at Bastila's young face, seeing the resolute determination in her eyes. "This is going to get me in trouble…but you care about him don't you?" He received a glare for that statement.

"I have saved his life once already. What makes you think I would hesitate to do it again?" she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nothing. I'm just accustomed to someone wishing so ardently to save someone else's life only if they care for that person," the doctor answered, shrugging.

Bastila's smile was unreadable. "Perhaps I just want him alive so I can find answers to my questions. Or perhaps I gain a certain pleasure out of making his life utter hell. Perhaps I feel that I am safest if he is alive. Or, perhaps, I pity the man in that bed who is suffering because he sacrificed himself to keep all of us safe. Perhaps I think that there is more to him than he shows, and I want to find out what. I have many reasons for wanting to keep Revan alive, as do you, I'm sure. Why do _you_ want him kept alive so badly, hmm?" It was an emblematic question. She paused, managing to somehow look down her nose at him, though he was taller. "Now, don't you have a job to do, _doctor_?" she asked, her tone almost biting.

The doctor raised an eyebrow at her and replied, matching her tone, though his was calmer. "Yes, I have a job to do. So do you. I don't see you taking care of him like I ordered."

Bastila laughed, turning and walking towards the door. "Good try, doctor. I'll see you when you have a cure."

She heard the doctor's chuckle as she left, and she managed a small smile. The stress was getting to them, causing them to snap at each other, argue, but they still managed to keep it rather good-natured. As she neared Revan's biosphere, Bastila felt a deep unease grip her, and as she entered the biosphere, she realized why.

Malak was standing over his master, gazing down at his unconscious form, arms crossed over his broad chest. He glanced up as Bastila entered through the door, his yellow-brown eyes showing an ineffable emotion. "Is it true he is dying?" he asked in his mechanical, grating voice.

Bastila swallowed and forced herself to regain her confident, unaffected manner. She would _not_ let Malak see that he frightened her. "If we do not find a way to aid him, then yes, he will die," she answered tightly.

Malak's eyes narrowed slightly. "And why should I trust my master's life to you, Jedi?"

Bastila's gaze narrowed equally, and her glare outmatched his. "Because while _you_ were running for your life like a coward in a space battle, _I_ was trying to save his!" she snapped.

Malak's hand flew up and clenched, and Bastila felt her lungs being forcibly deprived of air. "Don't you _dare_ insult me, you little bitch!" he snarled. "Just because you're Revan's pet doesn't mean you're invincible! I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and Revan could do nothing to stop me," he growled, drawing closer to her. Bastila backed up, feeling her shoulder blades smack the metal wall behind her. Malak closed in still, stopping mere inches from her form, still choking her. Bastila felt pangs of true fear grip her as she gazed helplessly up into Malak's eyes, her vision blackening on the edges from lack of oxygen, her limbs burning and growing heavy, her knees sagging.

Bringing his large hand up to her face, he held his clenched fist there for a few moments longer before opening his palm to her and letting go of his chokehold. Bastila sank down to her knees and gasped for air, her hand protectively over her throat. She watched Malak's booted feet exit the biosphere, and only then did she make to get up. Walking slowly, shakily over to where Revan's still-unconscious form lay, she sank down into the chair next to his bed.

Bastila could not risk resisting Malak through the Force, as she was still supposed to have her Force suppression collar on; and so there was nothing she could do to stop the apprentice from choking the life out of her any time he wished to do so through the Force. Being helpless was not something Bastila was accustomed to, and this incident now with Malak made her hate the feeling even more. If only Revan were awake…

She sighed, checking his cuts for infection and making sure he was still breathing and had a normal pulse. But he was not awake, and there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. Not until they found a way to kill the parasite that had taken up residence in his body. Yet again, an area where Bastila was rendered rather helpless. She was most effective taking care of Revan, staying by his side, but she still wished to help in discovering how to destroy this new parasite. She was just as well trained as any doctor, and just as knowledgeable, but somehow, fate had seen fit to relegate her to the task of being at Revan's bedside – the place furthest away from finding a cure for him.

She stayed like that for hours, sitting next to him, lost in her own thoughts – or so she assumed. Somewhere along the line Bastila had drifted off, but a growling groan brought her awake again, and she focused on Revan's form. His face was contorted in a grimace, his teeth gritted, and he was half-writhing on the bed, his head shoved back into the pillow beneath it. Bastila gently grabbed his face and leaned close to him, trying to calm him.

"Shh..." she whispered soothingly, using one hand to tenderly stroke his hair. Revan stopped writhing almost immediately, though his breathing remained harder than normal and he was still tense. His eyes opened, though she could tell they were unseeing, and rolled back into his head until the whites were the only things showing. He coughed suddenly, and a dribble of blood leaked out of his mouth. Bastila winced, having a good idea why he was coughing up blood. Whatever toxin that parasite secreted had obviously started to cause damage to the blood vessels in his lungs, and with his current inability to clot, his risk of internal bleeding from other organs would be high.

Revan coughed again, bringing up more frothy blood, and Bastila hastily wiped at his mouth, smacking at the call button the doctor had placed near the dying man's bed. The doctor burst in and cursed as he saw what was happening.

"Shit…internal?" he asked as he came to the other side of Revan's bed.

"Yes – it just started like this," Bastila replied, still holding Revan's head in her hands.

"There's no way I can pinpoint the internal bleeding fast enough – "

"Well you're going to have to try! Would kolto do nothing?"

He shook his head. "It might delay the bleeding, but it would only provide more fresh tissue for the parasite to feed upon, thus prolonging its life." The doctor stretched medical gloves over his hands and pried Revan's mouth open, swiping his finger around and shining a light inside, peering around for a good while. "The bleeding doesn't seem severe…he should be fine for now. If it gets worse, let me know. We'll have to put him on a steady drip of kolto if his condition deteriorates any further. We have no idea how many major organs this parasite has infected…and how much damage it has done. I am most concerned for his brain and his heart. Let's pray those are not damaged beyond repair."

Neither of them noticed the door open and a young, nervous looking man step inside. "Uh…sir? I don't mean to interrupt but…you might want to come back to the lab."

Bastila and the doctor both snapped their heads around to look at this newcomer, the doctor standing and removing his gloves as he did so.

"Look at what?" he demanded.

"Well, due to the sheer number of scientists you put on this case, and purely by luck, we've already discovered a chemical that might possibly kill the parasite. It needs refinement though…for medical purposes."

The doctor glanced back at Bastila. "A few hours and already we have a possible weapon against this thing…whatever is watching over Revan is powerful indeed."

* * *

(2 days later)

Bastila stared at the syringe in the doctor's hand. "This will kill the parasite?"

He nodded.

"You're sure?"

"The lab tests proved 99.9 per cent effective."

"What happened in the other 0.1 per cent?" she queried.

"Allergic reaction to the compound. Very rare, but still possible."

Bastila turned to Revan's unconscious, parasite-ridden form. "What about the mutated cells? What does it do to those?"

"Kills some, leaves some alive. But the mutated cells don't seem to have any adverse effect on the normal red blood cells, so their presence is not harmful. Bastila, this is Revan's best shot. If it works, he lives; if it doesn't, he dies either way."

She sighed. "I know…I just don't want to hasten his death if we screw up."

He laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "You and I have done all that we can – whatever fate decides is what we must live with."

Bastila was staring at Revan's almost-serene face. "Give it to him," she said quietly, hoping to the Force that she was not giving the order to end Revan's life. As she watched the doctor insert the needle into the IV port on Revan's hand, Bastila wondered just exactly why she wanted to keep Revan alive so badly.

Did she, like the doctor suggested, care for him? She didn't want to see him come to any physical harm, and she certainly did not want him to die. Did that count as caring for him? He intrigued her like no other man had, and she wished to know all that she could about him…did that count as caring for him? She wanted to ease his suffering, to aid him, help him…did that count as caring for him? Bastila could not rightly answer; all that she knew was that there was something inside of her that drove her to keep Revan alive, to help him in any way she could, despite the fact that he was her enemy.

_Enemy_, her inner voice snorted bitterly. _He is no enemy of yours. The Dark Lord of the Sith, maybe, but not Revan. The man himself is not your enemy – he is nothing more than a man._

Bastila could not disagree with this argument. Revan as a symbol was her enemy, yes, but as a man…somehow, he was not. He was something much more…complicated. A loud beeping brought her back to the real world.

"What the hell does that mean?" she demanded, seeing that Revan's vitals were out of normal range. Fear rose within her, fear that she had inadvertently killed him.

The doctor held up a hand, palm facing her. "Hold on – it's normal for his vitals to do that. The serum is killing things inside of him; that's a lot of stress on his body. Give it a minute to stabilize – it's only been a few seconds."

Bastila blinked, realizing he was right. Her convoluted thoughts had only distracted her for a mere few seconds. As the doctor predicted, within a minute, Revan's vital signs had stabilized, and he was, supposedly, on the road to recovery. Whether or not that was true remained to be seen.

* * *

A day later, Bastila watched Revan slowly open his eyes and almost immediately shut them again against the bright light. His cuts had stopped leaking blood and were clotting normally, he had ceased coughing up blood, his fever had broken, and now he had regained consciousness. That did not mean he was out of danger yet, but it was a start.

"Revan?" she asked quietly, placing a hand on his bandaged shoulder, the one closest to her.

"What?" he growled, bringing his left hand up to rub his eyes.

"Just making sure you were really awake. How do you feel?"

His emerald irises became visible again, locking onto her grey ones. "Like shit. You?" he asked, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

Bastila gave him a wry smile. "Like hell." She paused, watching him look around. "Would you like to sit up?" she asked.

Revan glanced at her in distaste, obviously unhappy that something as simple as sitting now possibly required help. "Yes…that would be preferable."

"Move slowly," Bastila ordered, standing and leaning over him, not yet touching his body.

He looked at her for a few seconds before very gingerly placing his palms flat against the bed and pushing himself up. Bastila stayed where she was, not moving until he either needed her help or made it on his own. Revan's face was set in a pained grimace, but he sat up under his own power and scooted backwards, looking around rather alertly for one who had just been in a week-long coma.

"How long was I out?" he asked, his voice a hoarse growl from not being used for so long.

"A little over a week," she replied, seeing the shock in his face.

"Over a week?" he croaked. "Son of a…what happened while I was dying?" he asked darkly; she noticed the morbid comment but did not say anything about it.

"Apparently, nothing monumental. Some skirmish with Republic soldiers, but no real battles. No diplomatic needs either." Bastila had been informed by the doctor that this would likely be Revan's first or second question, so she had made it a priority to find out what the goings on of his empire had been during the week he was almost terminally ill.

Revan nodded, absorbing this information and falling silent for a moment. His perceptive gaze was still roaming around the biosphere, taking in everything new. Medical equipment littered the area, but what caught his attention was the number of food packets that decorated the floor around the right side of his bed, around a chair that was situated next to him.

"Did you sleep in that chair?" he asked curiously, but in a slightly detached manner.

Bastila glanced behind her, noting his seeming politeness. "Yes." She snorted. "I lived in that chair."

He peered up at her, uncomprehending. "Why?"

He watched her bring her brows together some and then bite her bottom lip – a gesture that drew his gaze to her mouth and immediately brought up suppressed desires; namely, the wish to feel the softness of her lips against his.

"Why? Because I had to stay with you to make sure you were all right. I had to take care of you," she answered.

It was Revan's turn to furrow his brows. "Take care of me? As in…all aspects of that phrase?"

Bastila gave him a half-smile that said she was exhausted but still found his worry humorous. "No, not all aspects of that phrase. I let your doctor take care of things that would have been…inappropriate in any way."

He relaxed a bit. **_Good. I don't need her to see all of me when I'm like this…_**he thought. Just because he slept with women often didn't mean he wasn't still self-conscious about certain things, and for some reason, that self-consciousness was amplified when it came to Bastila.

"What was wrong with me?" Revan asked, infinitely curious as to why he had been brought to the brink of death.

Bastila sighed and sank down wearily into her chair, noticing how detached he seemed to be about his own death. "There was a parasite in your bloodstream from the animal's bite. It was able to secrete some kind of chemical that destroyed your red blood cells and tissues…so in essence, it was causing you to bleed out internally, and externally from the cuts and wounds you received. You had no antibodies to the toxin, and nothing hardy enough to attack the parasites. Essentially your body's defenses were utterly useless, which is why you deteriorated so rapidly," she explained as briefly as she could.

Revan was silent and thoughtful for a long while. When he did speak, it was not on what Bastila expected to hear. "During the time I was unconscious…how much of that did you spend at my bedside?"

She blinked, taken aback. "Most of it…your wounds were bleeding openly. I had to stay with you to make sure you didn't die from blood loss. That and you seemed to do best under my care." Bastila shrugged, half-smiling again. "I suppose I stayed because you liked me more than the others."

Revan snorted breathily. "Ha, yes, I suppose so. I don't presume to explain my subconscious reactions."

"Neither do I," she stated with a curiously indecipherable look in her eyes. Revan raised an eyebrow at her but she simply stood and began to pick up the trash around her seat, depositing it in the trash receptacle in the kitchen area. He watched her do this, noting how slow her movements were, but yet, how graceful they still seemed. His eyes ran down her form from behind, appreciating every slender curve of her body. It had been nearly a week since his vision had been graced with her image, and it seemed it was having some form of withdrawals; Bastila was not necessarily a drug, but he did enjoy the sight of her. She _was_ immensely aesthetically pleasing: her athletically feminine form, slim waist, slender thighs, perfect breasts, full lips, and captivatingly beautiful grey eyes – all of this appealed to him visually as a man.

Was that the only reason he wanted her? Revan was privy to visions of women as stunning as she at least once a week, what with the way he spent his nights, but those women did not compare with Bastila. What was it that made her so different? Was it her sharp wit? Her dry, clever sense of humor? Revan had met many women with beautiful bodies and intelligent personalities, but they still did not hold the allure that Bastila held. He started to mull over this but halted as the answer slid through his consciousness in a soft but firm declaration.

It was her compassion.

Revan had never experienced such sincere kindness from anyone before…and it had a strong pull on him, stronger than he would've liked to admit. Such empathy, such care was not something he was used to in the least, and so its impact on him was much greater than Bastila intended or realized. Of her own admission, she had slept in a chair next to his bed for nearly a week, just to make sure he made it through each day and night.

Why?

"Bastila…"

He frowned. His voice was not cooperating, but Bastila did not seem to mind. He watched as she returned to his side, her eyes hinting at concern as she gave him a quick once-over.

"Hm?"

Revan paused, finding her soft response incredibly sensual. Forcing himself to keep focused, he spoke. "Why did you stay next to my bed this whole time?"

She gave him a look. "I told you – I had to make sure you didn't die overnight."

Revan shot a look right back at her. "I know that," he stated somewhat irritably. "What was the reason _you_ chose to stay by my bedside? You could've delegated the task to someone else."

Bastila was silent for a moment, staring at something across from her. When she looked back down at him, her eyes were filled with uncertainty, and there was a sad, nervous smile on her face. "You know, it seems that every time I am near you, some sort of mortal disaster befalls you."

"So you stayed with me because you blame yourself for my injury?" he interrupted, finding himself somewhat stung by the selfishness of her response. But then again, why should he have expected anything else? She was shaking her head, however, and so he kept his ears open.

"No – you didn't let me finish," she said softly but firmly. "That is part of the reason I chose to stay with you, yes. I felt I needed to do something to make up for seemingly being a curse to you. You nearly died on your ship because of me, and now, you almost died protecting all of us down in that cave." Bastila paused, breaking eye contact with him, but bringing her effervescent grey irises back to his emerald ones soon after. "I have never wished for you to die, Revan; please know that. My intentions upon boarding your ship were to capture you if at all possible, never kill you. Then, I did not know you, and I didn't want to kill you. Now, I know some of who and what you are, and I do not wish to kill you in the least. I don't believe you deserve to die, because I have seen in you the ability to be kind, to show mercy. Only those who are past feeling, past any semblance of good and utterly consumed by their own evil deserve death. You are not like that." Bastila halted, fearing that in her exhaustion, she had said too much, exposed herself too greatly.

Revan listened to her, shocked by her honesty and touched by her apparent faith in his character. His smile was tinged with sadness. "You seem to have more faith in me than I have in myself," he told her, his tone cold. "I am not a good man, Bastila. Let go of any notion you cling to with that. You will not change me; you will not bring me back to the Light. I do not _want_ to go back to the Light." He took a breath, finding himself slightly dizzy. "What you did for me…I do not deserve it, and for that, I am immensely grateful to you. I owe you my life twice over – that is not an easy debt to pay back," Revan finished, his voice softening somewhat.

Bastila was silent, thinking. "Do you fear death, Revan?"

His intense green eyes gazed up at her, searching her face. The thought that she probably looked like hell flitted through her mind, but she didn't care.

"Do I fear death?" There was a gap between his sentences that seemed to stretch on forever. "It depends on what form it comes in."

She was not prepared for that answer. "What do you mean?"

"If I am to die in battle, at someone's hand because they are more skilled than I, then no, I do not fear death. But this…what just happened – being infected with something beyond my control…yes, I fear that greatly," he answered.

"What about by your own hand?"

His eyes darkened. As he looked into hers, he saw that she knew somehow. "Who told you?" he asked, though he already knew – there was only one person who could've told her. His voice was quiet, controlled.

Bastila had learned to fear this tone of voice, but she pressed this subject, needing to know for a reason beyond her comprehension. She reached out a hand and gently brushed her fingertips against the underside of his chin, feeling the stubble that had grown there but feeling the scar as well. His eyes darted down, surprised at the contact, but he did not jerk away.

"Why did you do it?" she asked softly, letting her hand fall to rest with her fingers grazing his neck, her palm resting high on his chest.

Revan closed his eyes, simply feeling Bastila's smaller hand resting on his chest, her fingers barely rubbing against his neck. Her touch was soothing to him, though he was not sure why. He would've expected it to excite him, if anything, not calm him. Pushing that unexplainable phenomenon out of his mind for the moment, he debated on whether or not to tell her why he had shot himself in the head.

"Why do you want to know?"

Bastila stared at him evenly. "I don't need a reason, Revan. I just want to know."

He sighed, feeling her hand shift slightly as he exhaled. The strong urge to tell her was welling up inside of him, and it scared him somewhat. **_Well, why the hell not? If she wants to know, why not tell her? Not like it can do any harm…_**

Deciding that it could not hurt anything, and that telling her might prove to be some form of therapy for him, he spoke slowly and deliberately, pausing every now and then to think. "It was during the Mandalorian Wars, after Malachor V. Not the battle, but when I discovered the planet for the first time. I went down on the surface…the Dark side there is stronger than anything you could ever imagine. It almost killed me…and I think that's when I developed my unique fear of death. I gave in to the Dark side – it was the only way to stay alive. I discovered a place there that held…awful secrets. Things that no one should find. Things that no one should see. I came back from Malachor V a different man. There was no way I could be the same person I was before I found that place."

Revan paused again, sighing once more, still feeling the light pressure of Bastila's hand on his chest. "All the things I saw there…I couldn't handle it. Not all at once. I put a blaster here," he reached up his left hand and rubbed at his scar on the underside of his chin, "and pulled the trigger." He laughed once, darkly. "It didn't exactly…go as I had planned. The damn thing misfired, and I ended up melting a hole in the bottom of my jaw. Took a day immersed in a kolto tank and a week of injections to fix it."

Revan's fingertips brushed against the back of her hand as he lowered his, and Bastila felt a burning tingle shoot down her arm and linger on her hand. As it was, her palm was already buzzing from touching his skin for so long. Slowly, she drew her hand back and saw Revan's gaze follow it until it rested on the bed beside him.

"Do _you_ fear death, Bastila?" she heard Revan's deep, still slightly growling voice ask her softly.

She looked up at him and without pause answered, "Yes, I fear death."

"You were faced with certain death on the bridge of my ship when you confronted me. Yet you did not back down, though you say you fear death."

Bastila nodded. "I was afraid then, make no mistake of that. I knew that it was likely I would die that day, but…it didn't hinder me. It didn't stop me from doing what I needed to do, which was attempt to capture you."

Revan gave a single nod. "That is good – you have more courage and bravery than most of my men. I admire that in you," he admitted, his tone serious. "The fear of death is not a bad thing; it is how you handle it – the fear and death itself – that reveals your true character."

Bastila concurred, but did not speak as it seemed Revan was not finished. She was right, as he exhaled once more and rubbed his left hand along his nearly bearded jaw.

"It seems that my character was lacking at that point in my life…"

"Perhaps not," Bastila counseled him. "Maybe it was just lack of ability to cope with such a traumatic experience. Everyone has their threshold – perhaps you reached yours."

Revan gazed up at her, respect evident in his eyes. "Hmm, you could be right. I was…emotionally and mentally unstable at that time. Maybe I just couldn't handle the stress, so I took what I perceived as uncontrollable – death – into my own hands so that I could have some semblance of power over it."

"Exactly," she agreed. Pausing for a minute, she decided upon her next question. "The Mandalorian Wars…I was not a part of any of that, so I know only what I have been told. What…what was it like? How bad was it?" Bastila asked hesitantly, unsure how he would react to that.

He snorted bitterly. "How bad? Worse than you can dream of. The Mandalorians…they showed no mercy. None. Pillaging, burning, raping…none of it was off limits. The thing I remember as a constant during the war was the screaming. Someone was always screaming. In terror, in pain, in anger…or maybe a combination of those. Mostly women screaming – awful sounds. The ones being raped were the worst. Made my blood boil…I would always make it a special priority to find the bastards who were doing the raping and kill them – and I would make it painful. I made them pay for what they had done."

Bastila distinctly felt the anger coming off of him through the Force, and had she not been Force-adept, she could've perceived it in the tension in his muscles and the smoldering glint in his eyes. She placed a hand lightly on his right forearm and felt his muscles relax beneath her touch. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his left hand, taking a deep breath.

"The men were almost as bad…the screams. It was when they screamed with no dignity, no...no semblance of masculinity that made it horrible. Hearing a grown man, battle hardened and tough as hell scream like that…it shakes you inside. It makes you question yourself, if you're strong enough, or if you would do what he did." Revan winced and pressed on his temples with his thumb and middle finger, a pressure headache forming. "Torture was common among prisoners of war. I was tortured, and I watched many men _be_ tortured. Their methods were brutal. They murdered your dignity, stripped you of any pride, degraded you beyond what you thought was possible…and then repeated the process until you broke or died. Or, in my case, escaped or were rescued."

Revan stopped talking again and Bastila spoke up. "Was that when you had to wear a Force suppression collar?"

Revan's eyes slid to her, with a bemused half-grin. "Do you keep a mental recording of everything I say?"

Bastila sat back some, slightly embarrassed. "No…only the things that interest or confuse me. When you hint at things, then yes, I will remember that."

He was quiet for a little while longer. "Yes. That was when I had to wear a Force suppression collar." His eyes met hers, and she saw that they were hard and cold as ice. "And no, I will not tell you what happened. I've already told you more than you should be allowed to know."

"Why?" Bastila challenged, crossing her right leg over her left as she sat back fully in the chair, gazing at him.

"Why did I tell you?" She nodded, and he thought hard about it. "I suppose because you asked. I said you could ask me questions and I would try to answer them – I am keeping my word." He half-grinned, though there was little humor in the action. "That, and I know that you will keep asking me until I tell you. I try to avoid that as much as possible."

"He's awake?"

Both Revan and Bastila turned to look at the doctor who was standing just inside the doorway. Revan spoke first.

"Aren't we observant? Yes, I'm awake."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Awake and as pleasant as ever, I see."

"Hm, I wasted all my pleasantness on my nurse here."

"Ah, I take it she was interrogating you in much the same way she did me?" the doctor asked, a humorous light dancing in his eyes.

Revan snorted breathily. "Oh yes. She's tenacious. I might have to claim mental rape."

The doctor laughed out loud as Bastila's eyes widened and she blushed and spluttered. "Mental rape! I did no such thing!"

Revan's grin was slightly wicked. "Oh, but didn't you? I don't feel that I consented to the little exchange we had. The information was pressured out of me."

"You little lying arse!" she exclaimed, sitting forward.

"See? And now she insults me," Revan said in a wearily resigned tone to the doctor. "You see what I have to put up with?"

The doctor chuckled. "Well, it was your decision to keep her. You and your damn libido."

Now it was Revan's turn to be embarrassed, though only slightly. "Now that is only half true," he countered.

"I'd say three-fourths true," the doctor argued.

Revan frowned, not enjoying discussing this subject – and his head was pounding unmercifully. The doctor noticed this and immediately dropped the subject, resuming his professional air.

"How is he doing?" the man asked Bastila, checking Revan's pulse.

She opened her mouth to reply but Revan interrupted her. "I _am_ right here, you know."

They both ignored him, and Bastila replied. "He's doing remarkably well for what he's just been through. His alertness is impressive, seeing as he was just in a coma. Overall, he's doing much better than I expected."

"I see he's sitting up. Did he do that by himself?"

"Yes, I did," Revan interjected again.

"That's good," the doctor said, talking to Revan. "How do you feel? Sore? Sluggish?"

"I feel tired and weak. And I'm hungry."

"Bastila, could you get some food for him please?"

The female Jedi nodded and got up from her chair, making her way into the kitchen and heating up food. She brought it back to Revan and handed it to him; he took it with a quick, grunted "thanks" and began to eat, not even asking what it was. Bastila watched him eat, seeing that he had the presence of mind to do so slowly, though he was famished. The doctor was checking everything once more to make sure all was well; satisfied, he took a small step back.

"You should be up and about in a few days, but –"

Revan coughed and swallowed his food quickly. "Bullshit. I'm getting out of this bed today."

The doctor glared at him. "That's not wise."

"When have I ever listened to your advice on recovery time? I don't need it. I can heal myself."

The doctor sighed. "Show me you can heal yourself, and I will let you get up. Just don't blame me if you fall flat on your face."

Revan gave the doctor a half-glare and pulled away the bandage from his wounded shoulder. Closing his eyes, he exhaled a deep breath and let the Force flow through him completely, touching every molecule of his being. Concentrating, he directed it to where his shoulder was, manipulating it to knit the tissues back together and close up the holes. The doctor watched in rapt fascination as Revan's skin drew closed again, scarred for a few moments, then flattened and smoothed as if nothing had ever pierced it. Revan's emerald eyes seemed to shine as he opened them, looking directly at the man next to his bed.

"Is that a thorough enough demonstration for you?"

The older man sighed. "Yes, Revan…it is. But I still think you should rest for at least a day; you don't know what the internal bleeding and blood-loss might have done to you."

"I feel fine enough to be up and about walking," Revan countered.

"Just give me one hour in a kolto tank."

The Dark Lord sighed. "Fine. One hour, starting now. Let's go."

The doctor removed Revan's IV from his hand and the younger man swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing slowly but under his own strength. Almost as soon as he straightened up, the color left Revan's face, and he swayed dangerously. Closing his eyes, Revan waited until the urge to faint passed and continued steadily on his way – still woozy from bloodloss.

Bastila had to admit, she was impressed at Revan's resiliency. The man had been brought to the brink of death, and here he was, minutes after waking up, already walking around. Not bothering to fully dress, the Sith Lord grabbed a very thick robe and wrapped it around himself, saying that he could use the Force to fend off some of the cold.

Not wanting to argue with him anymore, the doctor simply let him do what he wanted. The two men left the biosphere, and Bastila waited until the door was closed to shut her eyes and slump back down in her chair. She was so very tired…but there was no way she was climbing into that bed after Revan had been infected with a parasite. Wearily, she stood, donned medical gloves, and grabbed the sheets of the bed, ripping them off and depositing them in the incinerator that was in the kitchen. She removed her gloves and tossed them in as well; finding a cleaning droid, she programmed it to sanitize the mattress, and she waited until it was finished to grab another pair of sheets and re-make the bed.

Now, with a sanitized mattress and clean sheets, Bastila had left only to wash herself. She turned the water in the shower on as hot as it could go and stepped beneath the pulsing stream, the feeling better than anything she had felt in a long time. Finding a soap that read "sandalwood rose" – a rich, soft scent that was soothing – she lathered up and scrubbed down with it. Washing and conditioning her hair, she finally switched off the water and stepped out, toweling off and using the Force to dry her hair quickly. If anyone felt that through the Force, she didn't care – she was too exhausted. Entering into the main room of the biosphere, she rummaged around for clothing but frustratingly, could find none of her own. Had she neglected to pack enough?

With a heavy sigh, she searched some more, succeeding in finding a pair of long pants that she had previously worn. But where in the Force was her shirt? Groaning, Bastila walked over to Revan's bag of clothing and pawed through it, pulling out a long sleeve grey shirt and slipping into it. If he got mad, then so be it. She was cold, and needed a shirt. Finally, Bastila was able to collapse on the soft mattress of the bed, and she crawled beneath the sheets, burrowing deeply and passing out almost instantly.

* * *

Revan stayed awake during his hour of kolto treatment. He had been asleep for a week, and though he had felt tired when he first woke up, that feeling had faded quickly as soon as the kolto hit his bloodstream; its healing properties went to work immediately, and Revan could feel it fixing things in almost the same way he sensed how the Force healed his tissues. His mind was distracted however, with the only thing that seemed to be able to occupy it as of late: Bastila.

He felt all too acutely her utter exhaustion through the Force, and somewhere deep inside of him, as if it was his too. **_Just another thing to make me believe that we have some kind of connection_**, he thought. **_But is it just a passing thing? Is it just because we've been in close proximity to each other for a prolonged period of time? Because she has an affinity for making mental connections? Or is it more…permanent than that?_**

Again, the feeling that having a more permanent connection with Bastila was not a bad thing surfaced in his mind, and he could not help but agree, at least somewhat. If nothing else, if they _were_ connected, he would be able to influence her more directly, and with greater impact. Perhaps that would be the key in gaining her Battle Meditation for his war efforts? He hoped so. He had not pressed much on that as of late, being busy with so many other things, and he figured it was time to bring that subject back up again. Revan had been open with her earlier by sharing details of his past, and he suspected that she would see that as a sign of building more trust between them.

As it was, _he_ saw it as a sign of building more trust between them. Though he did not understand why, Revan found that time and time again, he _wanted_ to trust Bastila. There was something about her that made him feel he could be safe in confiding in her. He had managed to ignore that feeling for the most part, and had kept himself relatively closed off – until half an hour ago. Then, he had allowed himself to give in. Then, he had allowed himself to open up, but only enough to tell her the facts and a few musings of his own. The entire exchange had been rather emotionless on his part, and he had kept it that way on purpose.

He had no qualms telling her about the events in his past – for the most part – but Revan did have reservations about showing too much emotion around her. Just because he felt like he could trust her didn't mean he could; he had learned that lesson the hard way many times over in his life, and he was not about to make the same mistake again. Not with anything personal. Women could be manipulative creatures, and Revan knew that if he gave her too much, she could use it against him. And he _hated_ being at a disadvantage.

Still, she had given him no reason to assume she would try to backstab him in anyway…and so he was inclined to make small steps forward in building their "relationship." Revan thought about what Bastila had said earlier, about how she had spent over five nights sleeping in a chair next to his side, just to make sure he lived. And she had not told him that with any bitterness in her voice – she had simply stated it as fact. Though he had asked her, and she had explained, he still did not understand why she would do that for him. The fact that she had made him realize that, if it came to it, he would do the same for her, though he was not sure if it was out of a sense of decorum or something else.

He had truly been angry that the creature had tried to make a claim on Bastila, and as he looked back on it, that baffled him a bit. Why was he being so possessive of her? Was is because he subconsciously wanted her as his? Because he wanted to sleep with her? Revan found that to be a claim of ownership in some twisted way, the fact that he wanted to sleep with her. Or perhaps it was not that, maybe it was that he was not going to let anyone _else_ sleep with her that made it a claim of ownership. He did not fully understand it, but she brought out the possessiveness in him – she had ever since they had awoken comfortably tangled in his bed over a week ago.

As he remembered that, Revan felt a longing to experience that calm, contented comfort once more. He ached to feel her warmth again, to feel her breasts pressed lightly against his chest, to feel her hands on him, to feel _her_. Whenever they were touching, Revan felt it intensely, more so than when he touched anyone or anything else. Was that a side effect of their possible bond? For the first time, Revan let himself use the word "bond" to describe the feeling he got from her through the Force. He was tired of avoiding it, of pretending it didn't exist in his head. It was possible they were bonded, and he was going to find out one way or another.

Revan heard a muffled beeping noise and felt the kolto/water mix begin to drain from the tank. The glass slid up and he stepped out, taking the towel and clean pair of undergarments the doctor handed him. Making no attempt at modesty, he removed his wet article of clothing and slipped into the clean, dry pair of long boxers, donning a thermal suit the doctor had also provided and putting on the thick robe again as well.

"How do you feel?" his friend inquired gently.

Revan paused and assessed himself. "In all truth? Pretty damn good for nearly dying. I still feel slightly weak, but that will pass once I start to eat properly again."

"Good. You should probably get some rest again; even if you're not tired, your body is. And it will need some time to replace all those blood cells you lost. There's only so much kolto can do you know."

"Agreed," Revan said, walking to the door. He halted and half-turned. "Thank you," he said sincerely, and the doctor merely nodded.

"You go on and get rest. You need it."

Revan quickly made his way across the short, exposed distance it took to get back to the biosphere and slipped quietly inside. He took a few steps forward, as the biosphere was dark inside with no lights on; he could see perfectly, but he did not know why the lights were off. One glance at the bed told him why – Bastila was fast asleep beneath the sheets, her breathing even and rhythmic, her body relaxed, her aura peaceful through the Force. With a smile that only she managed to evoke in him, Revan slid out of the robe he was wearing and padded silently to his side of the bed, his gaze fixed on her the entire time.

Force she was beautiful…and he could only resist his instinctual urges and impulses for so long. He wanted her badly, for a number of reasons – she was in his bed, she was stunningly attractive, and he couldn't have her because she didn't want him. He realized then that he wanted her to want him more than anything in a long while. Maybe that was why he had answered her questions – because he had hoped she might be more inclined to want him? Though, in truth, he was tired of being seen as nothing more than an object useful for pleasure.

With a cynical smile, Revan figured that he finally understood the complaint women had voiced for so long – the utter frustration of being seen as an object for gratification. Yes, it allowed him to enjoy sex at a frequency that many men would kill for, but after a while, the knowledge that he was being used wore down on him. Even he, the Dark Lord of the Sith, craved validation every now and then that he was valuable to someone as a person, and not just as a sexual experience.

He returned his thoughts to the present. Did he think Bastila could give him that validation? Was that why he allowed himself to be more open with her – because he wanted her to see him, and want _him_, rather than want only what he could physically give her? As he mulled over it, Revan found he did not see Bastila as the kind of woman who could do that, use someone for her own selfish gains. And because he could not see her doing that, he felt safe in allowing himself to slowly be discovered by the small, stubborn, strikingly beautiful woman.

With a quiet exhale, Revan climbed into the bed in such a way so as not to wake the slumbering woman next to him and slid beneath the sheets. Bastila shivered lightly and Revan moved closer to her; she stopped shivering and relaxed once more. She turned her back to him, but scooted backwards some, closer to him. Revan gave a half-smile at this and closed his eyes, letting himself drift off to be gently cradled by slumber.


	8. Chapter 8

Omfg...I apologize for the long wait. Again, my excuses are: life, school, school, and school. Anyway, here is this incredibly belated chapter...it's a bit longer than normal, so I _did_ try to make up for the wait y'all. Oh, and there should be some serious action within the next few chapters - I'm absolutely itching to write a battle. So for all of you who love that kind of stuff, don't worry, it's coming, and very soon. As soon as I can possibly work it it, I promise. This is still a character building chapter. I wouldn't spend so much time on it unless it was important, and they are _very_ complex characters. Plus, this is one hell of a situation for them both - they have no idea how to feel. But the violence is coming, I swear.

Again, thanks profusely to EM for editing my stuff for me - couldn't do it withoutcha mate.

Disclaimer: Have I ever made one? Nope. Not gonna start now.

Hope you enjoy! Please review - feedback is like manna from heaven to me; it helps sooo very much.

* * *

Bastila awoke to a comforting warmth radiating pleasantly along her back. Shifting slightly as she opened her eyes, she felt a gentle pressure around her waist, and something solid blocking her movement backward. Momentarily confused, and still groggy from slumber, Bastila looked down and saw a large arm draped over her. Tracing her eyes up the foreign appendage and turning her head to look back, she was met with a view of a familiar bearded chin and face. With a smile, she slowly shook her head. The irony of finding contentment in the bed – the _arms_ – of the Dark Lord of the Sith…

Laying her head back down on the pillow, Bastila allowed herself to relax for a while longer. Revan was so very warm it was soporific, and she wanted to simply drift off to sleep again in that soothing warmth. His single-armed grip on her was gentle but firm, and even if she wanted to get up, it was apparent Revan wasn't going to let her just yet. Bastila shifted onto her back so she could see his face, and she smiled at the view. She could only see half of his visage because the other half was hidden beneath his other arm that was draped over his head – a rather adorable position, she had to admit.

As she had shifted, so had the arm around her waist, and she could now see Revan's large paw on her hip. With a feather-light touch, she placed her fingertips on the top of his hand and ran them down his fingers; his hand twitched and he pulled it away, its new resting place low on her abdomen. Her skin tingled, and an odd throb pulsed through her, through an area that had never responded in quite that fashion before. Her breathing hitched for a moment, the sensation strong, but it faded after a long moment, and she relaxed again, albeit slowly. She pressed a little harder with her fingertips, and continued them along their path, rubbing down Revan's hand, feeling its strength; she still perceived the tender gentleness that his hand held, but did not bestow.

Bastila wondered if anyone had ever been on the receiving end of a gentle touch from him. She had received a few, yes, but they were not because of affection. Those had been because of…

What _had_ they been for?

If not affection, then what? Detached tenderness that he didn't feel? Unemotional gentleness that he gave because the situation called for it, not because he wanted to? Bastila frowned and forced herself to stop thinking like that. She was always so quick to paint him as an emotionless shell, when in reality, he was the complete opposite. But that in itself posed a serious question: if he wasn't emotionless then why did he hide _everything_ behind a wall? Bastila understood his need to appear strong and unshakable to his soldiers and subordinates, but surely that didn't mean sacrificing every emotion to apathy or cold fury…did it?

She realized that he probably showed her more emotion than any other person, save his doctor, a fact that made her re-evaluate her original musings on his behavior. If she thought he was distant to her – when in reality, he wasn't – what was he like to others? She had never really seen him interact with anyone else, save a few soldiers, and Malak.

Malak…she grimaced and shivered involuntarily at the thought of him. Her throat ground out its protest, and she swallowed gingerly as she remembered the feeling of being choked, of being helpless, at his mercy. Why Malak had such an apparent enmity for her was not something Bastila understood. What had she done to invoke such intense…hatred? Her being here was not _her_ choice, it was Revan's. A sardonic smile curled a corner of her mouth as she came to an unfortunate realization – if Malak was displeased with Revan's choice to keep her, would he take it out on Revan, a much stronger Force-wielder and his Master? Of course not. He would take it out on her.

Bastila groaned inwardly. That meant that any encounter with Malak was likely to be utterly hellish…

She was distracted from her thoughts as Revan shifted and tensed, gripping her stomach lightly, making the pleasant throb return. She heard him yawn and then groan, removing his arm from his face and opening his eyes. The view reflected back at her from those soulful irises was one of contented amusement – though she might have been able to discern that last emotion from the way his lips curved into a rather enticing smirk.

"Good morning," he said softly, the amusement seeping into his sleepy, growling voice.

"Morning," Bastila rejoined, determined not to let him make her look like a fool. He always managed to do that in situations like this, and she'd be damned if he was going to do it once more.

"Should I get up first, or would you like to?"

Bastila glanced down pointedly at his hand, then realized hers was still on top of it. Quickly withdrawing it, she caught the barely perceptible shift in his abdomen as he gave a breathy laugh. He removed his hand without saying anything however, and rolled onto his back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. He groaned and fell backwards, catching himself with his elbows; Bastila sat up quickly and reached out a hand to catch him, placing it behind his head for support.

"Vertigo?" she asked. He nodded, his head moving against her palm and fingers. Bastila noticed for the first time that his hair was very soft, not to mention thick. He sat up more slowly this time and made it to his feet, walking unsteadily towards the kitchen. Bastila got up and followed, hoping that she wouldn't have to catch him again – she had barely been able to support his weight when he had passed out in the chair, and she knew that there was no way she would be able to support him from a dead faint if he was standing.

Revan sank into a chair in the kitchen, and Bastila watched him; the way he shut his eyes to the soft light coming in through the window; the way he gripped the arms of the chair a little _too_ tightly for support and the way his cheeks drained of color as he took some steadying breaths. Despite his earlier bravado, Revan was still obviously not well. At the moment he looked like he was either going to throw-up or faint, she thought idly.

His musings were violently interrupted as Revan shot up out of the chair and bolted for the refresher, disappearing within. Before she had time to really react and follow him, the distinct sounds of his retching reached her ears. Snapped into action by Revan's obvious discomfort, she was in the refresher and behind him within seconds, rubbing a comforting hand between his shoulder blades. His whole body shook and trembled with the violent force it required to purge himself, and Bastila's heart went out to him.

"Fuck me…" she heard him groan before spitting into the toilet and reaching a shaking hand up to flush it. She batted his hand away and flushed for him, activating the self-cleaning option.

"I'd better not. I might kill you in your current state," she muttered, half-humorously, as she helped him sit back and stay balanced.

Revan gave a weak chuckle. "I agree. Perhaps we should wait," he said conspiratorially.

Bastila said nothing as she retrieved a washcloth and wetted it; coming back to him, she handed over the washcloth and placed her hand on his shoulder, giving a very gentle squeeze. He dragged the wet cloth across his mouth and glanced at her hand on his shoulder, saying nothing.

"You need to drink water," Bastila said, standing to get him some. Revan made to stand, but she placed both of her hands on his shoulders and pressed down, not letting him up. "No, you stay here. I'll get it."

He tried to protest but saw that she would have none of it and simply nodded, letting her go. She returned quickly, glass in hand, and gave it to him, squatting down again to his level. Revan sipped the water, not really thirsty, but wanting to get the awful taste out of his mouth and knowing that he needed to replace the fluids his body had just lost. Setting the glass down, he looked at Bastila, seeing the worry in her face and eyes.

After a few moments under scrutiny, Bastila shifted uneasily under his gaze. "What?" she asked self-consciously.

He was silent for a moment. "I'm just trying to figure out why you care so much."

A light blush colored her face from embarrassment and nervousness. "What do you mean?"

Revan shifted. "I mean why do you worry so much about me?"

Bastila blinked and furrowed her brows. "I worry because you nearly almost died, and now you're throwing up. That's not a good sign, and I'm not sure if your body can handle the extra stress."

He smiled softly and shook his head. "No, not that. I know why you would worry about that. That's not what you're worried about though."

"I…" Bastila averted her gaze from his, knowing what he was saying. "I've already said I don't want you to come to any harm."

"Yes, but why?"

She glanced up at him quickly, wishing he would stop asking such difficult questions. "Because I don't like seeing you in pain."

"I don't necessarily enjoy seeing people in pain, but I don't sleep at their bedside when they do fall ill," Revan countered.

Bastila rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration. "What do you want me to say, Revan? That, Force-forbid, I actually care about you?"

Revan's emerald gaze was even, as was his voice, belying the apprehension within. "Do you?"

He watched as her eyes widened ever so slightly and she pressed her lips together, averting her gaze. "I can't answer that," she said quietly, standing and walking out of the refresher.

He heard the water running in the sink and the sound of her brushing her teeth – apparently, she was still in the refresher. Revan wondered if he had pressed it too far, but when she had mentioned it, he had suddenly _needed_ to know if she could possibly feel that for him. To know that it was even a possibility that she could actually care for him…it was a prospect that dried out his mouth, set his insides clenching, and made his heart pound in his chest. It made him nervous. It made him that way, because he wanted it. He wanted it so badly…

Downing the rest of his water, he stood slowly and walked to the sink, finding Bastila gone, grabbing a toothbrush and some mouthwash. When he had finished cleaning his mouth, he exited the refresher and looked around, seeing that she had gone into the kitchen. He followed, and watched her from the doorway. She was heating up something – it smelled like tea – and was moving like someone lost in their own thoughts. She turned her head to the side once, to grab something, and he noticed a dark mark on her neck. Silently, he moved to where she was and gently grasped her left arm just above the elbow, turning her to face him.

She jumped slightly at the unexpected contact, but turned as he pulled her, looking up at him with confusion in her face. He gently swept the stray hair away from her neck and brushed his fingers lightly against the skin there, causing a strong tingle to course through her all along the left side of her body.

"Wh…what are you doing?" she asked shakily.

"Your neck is bruised," Revan said factually, tracing the dark marks left there.

Bastila's brows furrowed and her hand came up to where his was, tangling with his as she touched her neck. She simply looked up into his face, into his eyes, bewildered and slightly afraid. They were standing close enough to feel the other's body heat; Revan's was stronger, and Bastila felt it acutely.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, gently, but with an underlying hint of controlled anger.

"I – it…." Bastila didn't know what to say. How much would she be risking if she told him Malak had choked her? How much danger would she be putting herself in? Revan's promise to protect her suddenly slapped her into her senses, and she realized that if she _didn't_ tell Revan, it would be more dangerous.

She took a breath and looked away from Revan's intense eyes. "It happened while you were unconscious. I came back into the room and Malak was standing over you. I…we exchanged insults and he…um…"

Bastila was hesitant because she did not like admitting weakness to Revan, not because she was afraid to tell him what Malak had done. She didn't have to, however, as Revan instantly made the connection.

"Did he touch you?" he growled, his body tensing. He leaned down some, bringing them closer as he inspected her neck. It didn't look like finger marks…but he had to be sure.

Bastila's hand was still half-twined with his, and she gently pulled his away. "No, he didn't."

As Revan gazed down at her, from so close, he had to struggle not to give in to the urge to shove her against the countertop behind her and kiss her. He glanced down at her neck again and leaned a little closer.

"Are you telling me the truth?"

Bastila held her breath as he closed a little more distance between them. She was already having a hard time keeping her mind straight with the way he was touching her, and how close he was, and yet, he kept getting closer. She prayed he did not try anything, because she feared she would not be able to resist him.

"Of course I am – why would I lie?" she replied, sounding much calmer than she was. He looked back at her, and Bastila again saw just how beautiful his eyes were. They were a shadowy shade of green, green mixed with some grey, a combination that was both dark and bright at the same time. And they were so very deep that she feared she would lose herself in them if she gazed too long.

His lips were slightly parted, she realized, as she tore her gaze away from his. They were thin, but full, and looked softer then she expected. The thought that she wanted to kiss those lips, to feel them against hers entered her mind, and she darted her gaze elsewhere to try and save herself. It came to rest on the scar that ran down from the outside of his right eye to the point of his cheekbone; it was somewhat deep for a facial scar, and looked rather painful. Now that she was so close to him, she noticed the almost imperceptible pinkish-white line that ran from just above his eyebrow, through it, and then into the scar on the outside of his eye, making it seem as if the two were continuous. She really must ask him how he got that one day…

Her thoughts were interrupted as Bastila felt Revan extricate his hand from hers, and she blushed at the realization she had been holding his hand the entire time she had been staring at him while he was inspecting her bruise. She glanced down to see his hand coming up again, and his fingertips rubbed against her skin once more, causing her to close her eyes in an effort to conceal the way his touch affected her. Bastila felt the Force pulse through her, and the slight discomfort in her neck disappeared entirely. She opened her eyes, knowing Revan had healed her; what she saw in his gaze was anger, magnificent in its dark glory. Trying to drag his attention away from his dark thoughts, Bastila grasped his hand gently again as he lowered it, feeling the slightly rough texture of his palm, the way his fingertips accidentally brushed against her much more sensitive one, sending a thrill up her arm.

"Revan, I know that look," she said quietly, but firmly. She wanted Malak to get what he deserved for choking her, yes, but Revan needed to stay rational, and at the moment, he looked far from it.

Perhaps it was merely a trick of the light, for when he looked at her again, the anger that had been so clear in his irises was now locked away and simmering, as if hidden beneath the surface.

"Do you?" he said coolly. He was concealing the fact that he was embarrassed she could read his fury so easily, that she could tell he was so bothered over his apprentice hurting her. He glanced down and looked at their intertwined hands; her smaller one fit perfectly in his own.

"If nothing else, I know that you aren't exactly partial to Malak under the best of terms," Bastila replied diplomatically.

He gave her a cynical but amused smile and snorted breathily. "Is it that obvious?" he asked, sarcasm evident in his words. He gently parted their hands, doing so with such care that Bastila found there was no way she could possibly take the gesture as rude. "Malak is my apprentice, and whatever I decide to do with him is my decision alone. He's been insubordinate for a long while now, and I am fast growing tired of his bullshit."

Revan made no mention of punishment, however, and so Bastila didn't know if he was simply telling her why he was so angry, or if he planned on doing something about it. They heard the door of the biosphere open, and Revan quickly but naturally stepped away from her, turning and taking a few steps to greet the man who had entered. He was a medical technician, with a message from Revan's doctor: the man who had been attacked by the beast was in critical condition, and would likely die within the next half hour.

Revan sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, looking down at the ground. "Tell the doctor I'll be there as soon as I can," he said rather listlessly.

"Yes sir," the man said, nodding. "Oh, and he also said to tell you that the beast is ready for autopsy, if you wish to be present for that."

The Dark Lord nodded and the medical technician left. Bastila stepped up behind Revan, touching his arm briefly.

"Hm?" he asked, turning and gazing down at her questioningly. She was holding a mug of steaming tea, and she handed it to him.

"You should drink this. It might help keep your stomach calm," she said quietly.

He took it from her hands. "Thank you," he said sincerely, sipping from the glass.

Bastila gave him an unreadable smile and returned to the kitchen, cleaning up. Revan cocked his head to the side as he noticed something for the first time.

"Are you wearing one of my shirts?"

Bastila looked up at him, surprised, then glanced down at herself, a sheepish smile crossing her face. "Oh…yes. I couldn't find my shirt, so I grabbed one of yours."

He made an "ah" face, and went back to sipping his tea. He wouldn't say this out loud, but he was rather pleased she was in one of his shirts, and he thought she looked good in it. She was dressing in slightly thicker clothing, and Revan emulated her after finishing his tea. He had felt how her entire aura had become excited at the mention of the animal's autopsy, and he knew that she wouldn't miss it for anything. He felt a surge of evil pleasure at the thought of dissecting the beast. Bastila felt this wicked delight as if it were her own and immediately directed a glance at Revan, but saw nothing out of place. Had she simply sensed his emotion through the Force? It didn't seem like him to project his feelings…so why had she felt it so strongly? She reasoned that he didn't have to smother his emotions all of the time, and he had probably just simply neglected to close himself off.

Revan was dressed and ready to go, and she followed him outside, the two of them trekking to a biosphere she had never been in before. Inside, it looked much the same as Revan's had when he was sick – a myriad of medical instruments littered the room, it was cluttered, and in a state of general disarray. On the far side of the room, writhing on a bed, was the soldier who had been attacked and mauled by the beast. The doctor was standing a few feet away, looking solemn and frustrated. Revan walked up next to him, his eyes never leaving the dying man's form, remembering that he had been like that scant hours ago.

"How is he?" Revan asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

The doctor sighed, shut his eyes, and shoved a hand into his hair. Turning more to Revan, he spoke so quietly the Dark Lord had to lean down to hear. "He's not going to make it," he said, his voice filled with frustration and defeat.

"Have you given him…?"

"Allergic reaction," the older man snapped wearily, angrily.

Revan placed a comforting hand on the doctor's shoulder. "You've done all you can – no one can ask any more of you," he said soothingly, lacing his voice with the Force ever so slightly. "All you can do now is make him as comfortable as possible in his last few hours."

"I know, I know, it's just so…_frustrating_ to…to…" He gesticulated, groping for words.

"Fail?" Revan supplied.

"Yes! To do everything humanly possible, and still _fail_!" the doctor vented, exasperated, throwing his hands up. They fell to his sides and hung there limply, his shoulders slumped under an invisible weight.

Revan let out a soft sigh of his own and silently walked over to where the dying man was still writhing in agony. He glanced down as he felt Bastila brush against his hand, and he shifted his gaze to her face, seeing the worry and compassion she held for the man on the bed, a man she didn't even know. Revan felt jealousy burn in his chest upon seeing that compassion in her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he wanted to be the sole receiver of that compassion, of that care she was always so willing to give.

"There's nothing we can do?" she asked softly, her eyes locked on the dying man.

Revan stuffed down the urge to turn her attention back to him. "No. He was given the medicine, and he had an allergic reaction – there isn't anything else that we know of to counteract the parasite," he said, the stiffness in his tone barely perceptible.

Bastila was feeling Revan's emotions through the Force, though greatly subdued, and they both surprised and confused her. _Was that jealousy? Over…what? _Bastila was perplexed, and so turned her concentration to Revan, trying to figure out what it was she was feeling from him. He had been fine as far as she could tell, until she had come up next to him nearly a minute ago.

What had she done since then? Asked a question about the man in front of them. _How did that…?_ Bastila was not sure how asking a question about Revan's dying soldier would elicit jealousy out of him, but she decided that it would be best to keep as quiet as possible right now, if for no other reason to make sure that his jealousy did not turn to anger.

That is, assuming, what she had felt _was_ jealousy. Sometimes, she had noticed, what she perceived from Revan was not what was really going on within him. An idea formed in her mind, and she gently shifted closer to him, her side now touching his more often than it did not. She did not expect any kind of gesture from him, and that was not why she shifted – she had moved closer to him to distract him, as distracting him seemed to work. That, and she seemed to be good at it. Or perhaps he simply enjoyed being distracted by her, and let her move his attention to other things. Whichever it was, Bastila did not particularly care – she just knew it was successful.

Revan looked down to his left as he felt Bastila shift into him, and he tensed momentarily, unsure of what to do. He couldn't put his arm around her – that would imply affection to any who saw them, and Revan wasn't ready to risk that yet. He didn't want to just stand there though, and so he shifted a little as well, turning slightly into her, just enough to get his arm out of her way and get her closer to _him_ instead of just his left side.

A long, loud, monotonous beep broke into both of their thoughts, and they immediately refocused on the man in front of them. He had stopped moving, and his face had a serene air to it.

"Is he…?" Bastila began hesitantly.

"Flatline," Revan murmured, reaching out a hand and placing two fingers on the man's neck to check for his pulse. He felt nothing. Moving his hand up, he gently closed the soldier's eyelids and turned off the heart monitor, finally silencing the machine's steady tone. He heard Bastila sigh and he turned to her, seeing the look of defeat in her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly under an unseen weight.

Reaching a hand towards her, he gently but firmly gripped the left side of her waist, turning completely to her and gazing down. Again, as she lifted her eyes to his, Revan swore he saw a tint of blue in them, mixed with the grey, but as her irises locked with his, it disappeared. He watched her glance down at his hand on her hip, and then back up at him; Revan made sure his gaze was pointed and heavy.

"Do not blame yourself for his death," he said slowly and deliberately.

Bastila looked confused. "Why would I – "

"Because I know you have compassion. And that you…" Revan paused, taking a breath and stifling his jealousy, "that you felt it for him too, even though you did not know him. That is your gift – you have that capacity, to love those who cannot be loved, to aid those who do not deserve your care. I also know that you will look back on this and think that you could have done more. I am telling you now that you did all you could. Sometimes, Bastila, people are just not meant to live, no matter how hard you strive to keep them alive. If we could conquer death, we would be gods; but we are not, we are human, and we do what we can." He paused momentarily and let out a tired sigh. "It is not always enough, but you are never to blame yourself for a death if you gave all you had."

Bastila let his deep, melodic, but slightly growling voice give her comfort, as she let the small amount of physical contact they had soothe her as well. She listened to his words, breaking her gaze away from his and staring at his chest because she knew he was right about her. Somehow, he already knew how she reacted to things, how she thought, what she felt…it was almost disturbing how easily he read her. Suddenly it was frighteningly easy to see how he had convinced so many of his compatriots to disobey the will of the Council; he was a natural leader.

Revan did not wait for her to respond. Removing his hand from her waist, he turned again to the bed, and pulled a sheet up and over the deceased soldier's head, covering his face from view. Stepping away from the bed, he beckoned for Bastila to follow; the doctor and two other medical technicians immediately stepped up to the bed and began to perform the needed preparations for autopsy and disposal of the body. Revan did not let Bastila look back as he led her out of the biosphere. When they were again outside, he paused and turned her to look at him.

"Do you wish to accompany me for the animal's autopsy, or would you rather go back to our biosphere?" he asked, mindful of how being around too much death could be severely detrimental to one's mental health.

Bastila then did something neither he nor she expected her to do – with a small groan, she closed her eyes and stepped forward, burying her face into his chest and letting herself lean against him for support. Utterly shocked, Revan did not move for a second, momentarily stunned by the vulnerability of the action, before taking stock of his surroundings and jumping to action. Gripping her upper arms firmly, Revan pushed Bastila back so that she was arms distance from his body.

Embarrassed, and somewhat hurt by his rebuff, Bastila grimaced and focused on the ground below her – unable to meet her companion's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "Just…all of this…I – never mind," she finished, mumbling, her softly accented voice trailing.

Revan was still holding her by her arms, giving them an almost imperceptible squeeze and brushing the pads of his thumbs across the fabric there. Bastila looked up at him in surprise. "We can discuss it when we get back," he said in a gentle whisper. Then, as quickly as it had slipped down, the "Dark Lord" façade reappeared in full force. "Unless, that is, you are staying in the biosphere, in which case we can discuss it when I get back."

The young female Jedi shook her head. "No – no, I'll come with you."

"All right then, if that is what you want," Revan replied, letting go of her and beginning to walk off, making sure she was walking next to him and not behind him.

Bastila, though she did not look at him, noticed this gesture and appreciated it. She felt very foolish for allowing herself a moment of weakness in front of him, and even more so because she tried to use _him_ for strength. Bastila was a strong woman – she knew this, and Revan had an idea of it – but there were times when she could not hold it together under her own power. There were moments when everything got too overwhelming, and she simply could not be strong anymore. For reasons she was not exactly sure of, one of those moments had just come and gone. The only person she could draw strength from during that time had been Revan, and so she had used him. Surprisingly, he had made a small effort to be a comfort for her, an effort that she had not expected from him at all.

Revan halted next to her, and she broke out of her thoughts to see why. They were in front of another biosphere, and Revan motioned for her to go inside first – an action he immediately regretted. Malak was within this biosphere, and Revan quickly stepped inside and in front of Bastila, – between her and Malak – his face hard set and his emerald eyes cold.

"Master," Malak said deferentially, though his eyes were not on Revan. Bastila met Malak's brown eyes with a contempt-filled glare, and she could see the shadow of predatory smile flit across his irises, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She was incredibly grateful as Revan's broad, powerful shoulders soon obstructed her vision, and at the same time, Malak's view of her.

Revan acknowledged Malak with a terse upward jerk of his head. "Has the autopsy started?" he asked in a businesslike tone.

"No Master, it hasn't."

"Good," Revan murmured, turning his head back to Bastila. "We won't have to interrupt then. They hate being interrupted."

Malak wisely led the way, going first, and Revan and Bastila followed, all three of them donning the appropriate wear and disinfecting themselves before entering the autopsy room. The animal lay on the table in two symmetrical pieces, cleaved perfectly in two by Revan's incredible skill with a blade, its body now on display for all in the room to see.

"Ah, so you've arrived," a woman said in a very genial tone, a warm smile on her features as she approached them.

"Yes, and I have brought someone with me. I hope that won't be a problem," Revan answered, his mouth curving into a small but genuine smile as he shook the woman's outstretched hand. From the gentle way they touched, and the way their contact lasted a little _too_ long, Bastila could tell that there was something between Revan and the woman; she could not tell, however, if it was a previous romantic attachment – if the woman was one of the many "guests" Revan had, Bastila thought bitterly – or if she was simply a very good friend, as the other doctor was to Revan. Still, something was there, and Bastila did not like it.

It wasn't until after she had also shaken the woman's hand – a warm, friendly and firm shake – that Bastila realized what she was feeling was jealousy.

_This is absolutely ridiculous…I am jealous…over whatever this woman's relationship is to Revan. Why? I have no reason to be – he means nothing to me, and I nothing to him._

_Please,_ a voice in the back of her head rejoined with a cynical snort. _He means nothing to you? You are infatuated with him; never mind that you've saved his life twice!_

Bastila paused in her self-argument, frowning. She was _not_ infatuated with Revan. Attracted to him deeply, perhaps, but not infatuated. Infatuation implied…love, obsession, and she was feeling neither towards Revan.

_Then why do I care about him so much?_ She asked herself, perplexed that she couldn't give herself a clear answer. Was it simply because of her compassionate nature? Or was it something deeper? Was it, as Revan said, her ability to love the unlovable? Bastila hesitated on this next thought, afraid of its implications.

_Is…Revan "unlovable"?_

Feeling suddenly weak at this possible revelation, Bastila gripped onto the thing closest to her: Revan's arm. As soon as he felt her touch, he turned, his face showing a barely veiled concern. His own grip light but firm on her left upper arm, Revan leaned down a slight bit and peered into her eyes from rather close.

"Are you all right? You look pale…" Revan said, his dark brows furrowed over his emerald irises – deep green pools that did not, for once, hide his emotion from her. She could see the honest worry in his eyes, and it surprised her. It surprised her that he would let himself feel something like that for her; it surprised her that he would let himself show it, and it surprised her that he would let her see it.

_You mean something to him…_her mind practically sang to her.

Pushing her mental voice aside, Bastila swallowed and nodded quickly, her hands feeling the warmth of Revan's arm through his shirt, the unyielding firmness of his bicep beneath her fingers. _Not close enough_, her mind again interrupted, and she felt herself flush from the thought.

"Y-yes…I'm sorry, I suddenly got terribly dizzy, and I'm not sure why. Forgive me," she apologized as she slowly released her grip on his arm, avoiding looking into his eyes anymore.

"The animal doesn't bother you?" the woman asked sincerely.

"No, no – really, I'm fine with all of that. I just simply got a little lightheaded. I'll be all right," she assured them.

"If you say so," the woman replied, still unbelieving. She waited a few seconds until she was apparently satisfied with Bastila's state of health, and then addressed the three of them. "As I'm sure you've guessed, I will be the presiding medical examiner today. My partner is busy with another case at the moment, so it's just us. If no one has any questions, we can get started." Again, she paused, and when no one spoke up, she turned and moved to a small table filled with instruments, gathered a few, and placed them on a tray. In short, efficient movements she moved to the examination table, glancing briefly up at her audience. "Let's begin then."

Everyone made sure their protective equipment was secured before joining her. Revan was the first to the table, with Malak to his left, at the foot of the table, and Bastila to his right, at the head of the table.

"Lord Revan's already done a lot of the work for us, having sliced this beast in half along a medial plane – a practically perfect cut too; only off the median by a few fractions of an inch here and there, but I guess we can blame that on the animal, can't we?" the medical examiner said with a definable grin beneath her protective facemask. Bastila noted the term "Lord Revan" seemed a bit awkward on her tongue – not awkwardly delivered, but too formal, perhaps. Revan snorted, but did not reply to her statement, instead, moving to where Bastila was.

Bastila made to step out of his way, but Revan did not seem to mind her presence, so she stayed where she was standing. His right side pressed against her upper arm as he leaned over and inspected the animal's head. She heard and felt him half growl a "hmm" as he poked his gloved fingers into the beast's open skull.

"I was right," he muttered. "Decentralized brain." Revan moved down the table, running his finger along the animal's spine until he reached the abdominal section – and a mass of nervous tissue that seemed out of place. "Here. Damn…I missed by less than an inch. That would've saved me some pain..." Revan grumbled, seeing that one of the stab wounds he had inflicted was maybe a fourth of an inch away from the brain.

The medical examiner came over to Revan's other side, and leaned over to peer down at where the Sith Lord's gloved finger was. "Huh, you're right. That's incredibly rare…"

Bastila leaned over a little bit, her slender, dark brows furrowed, and Revan could tell she was about to ask a question. "So since it has a decentralized brain…the only way to kill it is to destroy the brain?"

"In theory, yes," the medical examiner answered. "Any living thing can be killed from extensive bloodloss, or from sustaining too much other trauma, but it is much more difficult to kill a sentient being through those manners that has a decentralized brain."

Bastila nodded. "And this is how rare?"

"Almost unheard of," she replied confidently.

Bastila nodded again, straightening back up, her body still in contact with Revan's. Malak's eyes narrowed as he noticed this, anger boiling up within him. There was nothing more he wanted right then than to either just rip Bastila away from Revan, or to grab his Master and slam him down on the autopsy table. Malak was an easily jealous person, and had always coveted the things Revan had attained that he had not – this was no exception. Revan had Bastila, and Malak wanted her; he wanted her because she was Revan's, he wanted her because he couldn't have her, and he wanted her simply because she was beautiful, an easily desirable woman. Malak was sick of being second, sick of being in Revan's shadow.

Malak watched Revan raise his head, unbeknownst to the two women who were engrossed in the beast on the table; he watched his Master's eyes lift to lock with his own gaze; he watched them freeze into glacial, glittering hard emerald, and all too easily read the implicit message; the claim that Revan was making. Malak chose to protest the only way he knew how. Letting his eyes narrow a little more, he returned but did not match his Master's stare, his own showing hard defiance. Revan stood up a little straighter, his shoulders back a little more, his entire body poised as if ready to strike, and Malak smiled inwardly. He didn't want this conflict, but at the same time, he relished it, relished a chance to prove his superiority. The irony that this was a quarrel over a woman – a Jedi prisoner of war, nonetheless – did not pass Malak by, but at the same time, it seemed the perfect thing to engage in a power struggle over.

Entire wars had been fought over love, so a petty fight such as this was not at all absurd. Petty, but at the same time, vastly monumental. Trivial, but at the same time, of absolute importance. Their horns were locked in something so much bigger, but that war could not be fought yet – so Malak would content himself with this battle. And Revan would not back down, this Malak knew. Revan would fight 'til the last – that was how he was built. Defeat was a word he spoke little of, a feeling he had rarely been subjected to; Malak intended to make him very familiar with the experience.

"This heart is…hm…interesting," the medical examiner's voice broke through Malak's thoughts. He had always been fascinated with the heart – physically and emotionally –and the mention of it now caught his attention.

"What's interesting about it?" he asked, his mechanical voice gruff, like always.

The female medical examiner glanced up, moving the heart around with her gloved fingers as she spoke. "It isn't what I expected in an animal of this size. The number of chambers is odd, and the entire setup is different from what I thought I would see," she explained.

Malak came over next to her, retrieving a normal scalpel as he approached. Deftly, he sliced through the sheath surrounding the vital organ, severed any ties the heart had with the body and lifted it out of the chest cavity – or the half of it that was in that half of the animal's body. Holding it up, he peered at it carefully as he rotated it around in his hand, seeing that the medical examiner was right.

"It has more chambers than expected…surprisingly thin walls too. Not a very muscular thing, considering the job it has – that's very odd. It doesn't even seem as if this could supply the body with the proper circulation…" Malak mused aloud, intrigued.

"That's because it has two hearts," Revan's voice said with an indefinable tone as he held up a smaller, but whole heart in his hand. Malak found something symbolic about the situation – he, with half of a larger heart; Revan, with all of a smaller one. He wasn't sure what it reminded him of exactly, but it seemed to click in his brain with something important.

"Sneaky bastard," the apprentice muttered, referring not only to the second, hidden heart, but its holder as well. "This thing could've been decapitated, and it still would've been able to maul someone," he finished, both awed and disturbed by that fact.

Bastila crossed her arms over her chest, and the medical examiner nodded, speaking. "This thing could, in theory, be severed in half transversally and still live."

Bastila suddenly made a noise and grabbed for the scalpel in Malak's hand. She did not get very far. Malak saw it coming and did not elect to let go of the tool, opting instead to tighten his grip on it so that she could not have it. Bastila's grey eyes glared lividly into his yellow-brown ones for what seemed like a long while, though in reality only a few seconds, and he finally released the scalpel, crossing his arms over his chest and staring disinterestedly down at her as she worked.

Revan's mouth was curled into a snarl behind his facemask, but he did not act. Bastila seemed to have everything under control, and though his protective instincts growled at him to move and though his fingers twitched under the influence of those instincts, he stayed put.

The female Jedi had thought of something, and had noticed something as well, and she decided to act on it. After wresting the scalpel from Revan's apprentice and having to endure almost coming into physical contact with him – his hand was warm, but not like Revan's hands at all; it was not a comforting warmth, nor was it pleasant: it was sickening – she attacked the area near the animal's saliva glands. There was another small sack, Bastila had noticed, and she wondered if perhaps that was where the parasites bred. Her theories had led her to believe that the parasite had a symbiotic relationship with the animal – the parasites were provided with a warm and viable home, whilst providing the animal with some unspecified function. It was entirely possible that the parasites primary function was not to kill unsuspecting prey – the animal was much too vicious a predator to require such passive methods. It was worth checking out, and so she carefully extracted the small, almost circular gland, placing it in her hand and showing it to the other woman in the room.

"Would it be possible to screen for parasites in this tissue?" she asked, trying to mask her excitement.

The woman nodded. "Of course. What am I looking for?"

"Ask your colleague; I don't know what tests to recommend. But he will know what I'm talking about when I say you need to look for the thing that was killing Revan," Bastila explained hastily, vaguely.

"You think that parasite might be in this gland?" the medical examiner clarified.

"Yes, I do. It's near the salivary glands, but it isn't part of them. It is connected to them, however; right here…see?" Bastila said, showing her where the two small tubes met just before they connected to the mouth. "They share this outlet. Perfect way to infect the saliva with the parasite, thus making it potentially transferable by any bite."

"Brilliant," the medical examiner breathed, referring to both Bastila's logic and the marvelous design of the animal. "I'll do that right now, if you all don't mind. I think we've seen most of what this animal has to offer anyway, though you're free to continue to explore it if you wish."

"I think we're finished for today, thank you," Revan interjected, though not brusquely.

"Right. Well then I'll take this," the woman grabbed the gland from Bastila's outstretched hand, "and I'll let you know what I come up with."

With that, she nodded her goodbyes to everyone and disappeared through an adjacent door. Revan, forcing Malak to go first, ushered them out of the room into a different one than before. They disposed of their protective apparel in this room, washed, and then exited it, returning to the main room of the medical biosphere.

"That Jedi artifact still hasn't been found – I want to know why," Revan snapped at Malak as he opened the door to the harsh outside world. At Revan's gentle push, Bastila went first, taking only a few steps outside before halting and waiting for the Sith Lord to follow. Again, Revan walked beside her as they made the short trek back to their biosphere. Once inside, they stripped of their outer gear and donned simple clothing over their thermal suits, the same clothing as they had been wearing that morning. Bastila watched Revan disappear into the computer room, and she slumped down on the bed, flopping backwards and staring up at the ceiling as she had once before, days earlier. She didn't know how long she stayed like that, but Revan's amused, almost seductive voice broke into her consciousness.

"I'm beginning to think you're trying to tell me something," he growled, an almost dangerous light in his green eyes as he approached her. "Either that, or you just enjoy tempting me."

Bastila blushed a little, but snorted. "Please – like I would _want_ to tempt you." She glanced down at herself, noting the position she was in. It _was_ rather…provocative; she didn't move. "And just what would I be trying to let you know, pray tell?"

"Hmm…I don't know – I'm not in your head. I don't know how you work, what things you do to attract men like me," Revan replied, thoroughly enjoying this banter.

"Men like you? There aren't any other men like you, Revan," Bastila rejoined, the slightly sarcastic tone of her voice matching the smile on her face as she gazed up at him, standing above her. Bastila suddenly had an incredibly clear, incredibly vivid picture of herself beneath Revan, of his warm, almost heavy weight pressing her into the very mattress she was currently on…

And just as suddenly it was gone, completely whisked away, as if it had never been there. _That was…odd_, she thought to herself. She had enjoyed that mental image, she admitted reluctantly to herself, and was slightly disappointed that it was gone.

"Oh, there aren't?" she heard Revan say, his weight depressing the mattress next to her. "Is that a good or a bad thing?" Bastila noted that his voice had become more serious, and she immediately felt uncomfortable once again. He had this disturbingly proficient way of switching a conversation to serious and possibly compromising matters.

She sat up and scooted back some, looking him directly in the eyes. "Why does it matter?" she countered softly.

Revan cocked his head to the side slightly, and she cursed his cute habit. He noticed that her eyes seemed to glow in this lighting, making them seem ethereal. The soft radiance of the lights behind him washed over her porcelain skin as well, accentuating its smoothness and making her appear more pale than usual – but not washed out. Her skin was a silky white, and Revan longed to feel it beneath his fingertips again. He let his eyes roam over her for a second longer, his gaze taking in everything about her: her slender form, ample breasts, toned, slim legs…It almost hurt to let himself actually _look_ at her – it made him realize how badly he wanted her; and how much he couldn't have her.

"It matters because I want to know," Revan replied, almost as softly, his deep voice carrying a little more power.

Bastila held her breath for a moment as she searched his face, seeing he was truly serious. Haltingly, she began. "It's…both, I think. You are a…unique man, Revan, of that I am certain. There are qualities about you that I admire, and those that I do not. If there were more men like you…I am not sure if the galaxy would be the same. I don't know if it could handle more than one you, Revan…you are devastating it as it is." She frowned slightly as she realized the double meaning of that last bit, hoping Revan wouldn't pick up on it.

"That wasn't exactly what I meant…" the Sith Lord said, shifting forward slightly.

She sighed. "I don't know if I could handle more than one you either. It might drive me insane."

"Drive you insane? Why?"

She sighed again. "Too many reasons," Bastila murmured beneath her breath, looking away from him for a moment. It didn't help that he was so insistent with his questions, but the honest sincerity in them, the fact that he truly wanted answers…it made it so hard to not give him those answers. "Why? Because before I met you, I didn't know what temptation was. Now, I am all too familiar with it, surrounded by it even. Everywhere I turn, it is something new, threatening all I have put my faith in."

"Temptation?" he asked, his eyebrows going up a fraction. "What tempts you?"

Bastila gave him a subdued glare. "Many things – things that I did not have while under the protection of the Jedi. Choices I did not have the chance to make then; pleasures I might indulge in that were not available under their watchful eye; emotions that are harder to control, feelings that do not cooperate."

"Does caring about me have anything to do with that?" Revan was not sure where that question came from, or why he asked it, but it was out before he could stop himself.

Bastila hesitated, and looked down. She could not lie to him…not now, not when he was seeking answers so earnestly from her. "Yes…it does."

"Why?"

She looked up and met his eyes. "Because I feel like it's wrong. I feel like I shouldn't care for you – you're the Dark Lord of the Sith: you're my greatest enemy, yet I don't hate you like I thought I would. I don't despise you. I don't even…dislike you! It all just seems so very…confusing," she explained, frustrated.

"What happened earlier, outside – that is connected to this, I think," Revan supplied, directing the subject. Pausing momentarily, he added, "You know it's dangerous for both of us to act like that in public. You were lucky no one was around to see that little display."

Bastila shrugged. "I had a moment of weakness. Knowing that I was and still am a prisoner, that I am nothing more than a pawn in this game of yours, knowing that I mean nothing, that my life is completely in your hands, that I am powerless against you, that my fate is entirely up to you…I couldn't handle it all. You were the only person there and I…I suppose I used you to try and comfort myself. I shouldn't be seeking comfort in the arms of the Dark Lord of the Sith," Bastila all but snapped.

Revan was slightly hurt, though he was not sure why. "Is it wrong to seek comfort from me?"

"Yes – no….I don't know!" she cried, exasperated. "I don't know anything anymore. Nothing is clear…it's all so damn muddled and confusing and I'm sick of it!"

"What's muddled and confusing?" he inquired curiously, wanting to know what was so difficult for her to discern.

"How I should feel," Bastila stated immediately. "I never thought…" She stopped, shaking her head, as if what she was about to say was too personal. "How I should act. Should I be myself, and show compassion and mercy? Or do I stuff it all down, act sullen, and refuse to be of any help to anyone? If I choose the second option, isn't that wrong? But if I'm not helping my enemy, isn't that in some way helping my allies?" She sighed and looked at him with an almost helpless air. "I'm a prisoner, Revan, _your_ prisoner. I never wanted that. I never wanted any of this…"

Revan swallowed, again feeling hurt at her words, though he knew exactly what she meant. "Bastila, if I were to apologize, it would be sincere, but it would do nothing. Believe me when I tell you that I never wanted any of this – any of this war, of this conflict, of this…death. I never wanted any of this power, any of this responsibility. It has been placed on my shoulders against my will, and now I must live with it, and suffer the consequences of it as well. I am not asking much of you – simply that you use a power you have been gifted with to aid me." Revan paused, shifting barely closer to her, his voice softening noticeably. "I need you – you are valuable to me. I think you realize that."

"Do you need me, or my Battle Meditation?" Bastila snapped angrily, ignoring his gentler tone as she stood up and stalked off to the refresher to get away from him.

Revan opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ to make her stay, but he knew it would not be wise. In his years dealing with women, he had come to the conclusion that one of the more important things a woman wanted was to feel appreciated and needed – interestingly enough, it was rather the same with men: the two sexes simply expressed their need differently. But why would Bastila want to feel such things from him? Revan wasn't entirely sure, but he had an idea that it had something to do with the fact that she cared for him. Perhaps she wanted him to return the emotion?

He certainly cared _about_ her, but did he care _for_ her? Revan supposed he did – he didn't want to see her come to any harm, he had the strong urge to keep her protected, and he found that he was very possessive of her. So…there really wasn't any other explanation was there? Letting out a deep sigh, Revan stood from the bed and padded softly to the refresher door – which was closed – and pressed the switch to open it. Bastila's surprised yelp reached his ears just as he felt her back hit his shins; looking down in surprise, his hands raised a little as if to wash them from responsibility for her awkward fall, he couldn't suppress a small grin. The glare she was giving him from upside down – her head was half between his legs, and she was looking up at him – was rather cute, and not at all menacing.

"I've told you before to knock!" Bastila snapped as she tried to right herself. Revan took a step backwards and watched as she fell flat on her back, unable to catch herself in time.

"I apologize," he said calmly, not stating whether it was for not knocking or for allowing her to fall on her back. Spreading his feet a bit wider, he took a step forward so that his feet were on either side of her waist and turned around, gazing down at her sullenly angry face once more. Bastila scowled as she noticed the half-smirk still tugging at the corners of his lips. Extending a large paw to her, Revan waited patiently as she glared at it; knowing she would either accept, or completely reject, his offer eventually.

With an angry sigh, he watched her extend her smaller hand upwards and slide it into his, her lithe, slender fingers gripping his larger, more powerful ones firmly. Revan gave a firm tug upward, yanking her more than he intended and she expected; Bastila grimaced slightly as she felt her hips come into contact with Revan's own, her chest already pressed against his firm, muscular one. Her free hand flew up to his bicep again and gripped hard, trying to release some tension from their rather…compromising position, and to try and let him know not to push it. But, Bastila knew, being Revan, he likely wouldn't listen.

When her breasts hit his chest, and her hips slid against his, Revan lost most rational thought for a few seconds, and could only _feel_. He felt the way her supple breasts shoved against his chest, giving a little against his body's firmness; he felt the way her hips ground against his for a moment, torturing him, then stayed glued there, matching his every movement, her warmth all too apparent. He felt the way her hand was in his: smaller, but strong; he felt the way her other free one held onto his arm for dear life, her grip obviously giving him a clear warning to stay back.

Revan's free hand was hovering over Bastila's lower back and he pressed firmly there now, keeping her body against his. He perceived her inhale by the way her stomach moved away from his, but her chest seemed to strain against his even more. Bastila wished she could speak, tell him to back off, to let go of her, but the use of her voice seemed to have been robbed from her at the very moment she needed it most. Finally tilting her head up to look at him, Bastila regretted doing so immediately – his face was so close to hers she could concentrate on nothing else but his endless emerald pools…

And suddenly, she was free, suppressing a shiver from the sudden temperature change. Revan had let go of her and stepped back, an unreadable look on his face. Now that she wasn't under the spell his touch seemed to have on her, Bastila's anger returned.

"What do you want?" she asked in an incredibly curt manner.

"To talk to you," was Revan's reply. Bastila blinked and faltered in her ire, his calm honesty surprising her once again.

"Why?" she rejoined, still in a short tone.

"Because I don't particularly enjoy being alone," he answered, again, calmly, though his eyes darkened to a stormy, clouded shade as he spoke.

She recognized that act – his eyes clouding; he was ignoring emotional pain, stuffing it down again and burying it. His response made Bastila pause and look at him differently: he was alone almost all the time – emotionally alone, at least – and she realized for the first time how utterly cold that feeling must be. Taking a step back from her pride, she swallowed and spoke.

"I'm sorry; you must think me a petulant child," she said, quietly, her eyes searching his face.

Revan's smile was gentle, tugging at the right corner of his mouth – gentle, and altogether sexy. "If it is that time of the month…" he began, a bit mischievously.

Bastila couldn't help but give a short laugh. "No, I don't think it is, but I suppose we shall see, won't we?"

"Hmm, yes, we shall see," he murmured, slightly distractedly. Bastila noted this and stayed quiet, watching him. Her eyes roved over him in a now-practiced pattern: she began with his dark, ruffled hair, ignoring for the umpteenth time her fingers' urge to bury themselves in that messy, spiky mane; her gaze then moved to his eyes, those arcane emerald irises he possessed, that were so very powerful because of the emotion they conveyed – at least to her; she switched her attention to his lips, seeing again how soft they looked, noticing how they were thin, but full enough to be attractive – enough to make her want to feel them pressed against her own lips, to see what kissing him was like. Bastila had, though she knew it was a foolishly romantic notion, the idea that he was probably a very good kisser, what with all of the women he was with. Pushing that bitter thought away, she found her eyes on his goatee, and noticed he looked a little more scruffy than usual. The main part of his goatee, the part on his chin, was a little longer than normal, and he had a bit of stubble everywhere else as well – and in all honesty, it was one of the more attractive things Bastila had seen in her lifetime, though she did prefer him cleaned up.

A question suddenly sprang into her mind, a question she had been harboring since the autopsy. Taking a step towards her Dark Lord – _Did I just think that? "My" Dark Lord?_ – Bastila let out a small, slightly shaky breath. This caught Revan's attention, and he turned his green eyes to his female prisoner, who looked as if she was about to blurt something out.

"Yes?" he proffered gently, making it easier for her to ask whatever it was she wanted to inquire.

Bastila gave him a sheepish smile and glanced down for a second before meeting his eyes. "I was wondering something…" she began, trailing uncertainly.

"About?" he prompted, curious.

"The medical examiner…you seemed very comfortable with her. I was wondering how you knew her," Bastila finished.

Revan suppressed a smile, having an idea of why she asked what she did. "She's married, if that's what you're getting at, and no, I have never slept with her," he said smoothly.

Bastila blushed, and stuttered a little bit. "Wha…R-revan, I never asked that!"

The Sith Lord chuckled and stepped closer to her. "No, Bastila, but you _did_ imply it, and my reputation precedes me, I realize that. She is simply a good friend – I have never been attracted to her, I have never been with her, and I will never be with her. I am not the kind of man to engage in an affair."

Bastila found her respect for him growing as she discovered more about him. Revan was a surprisingly _good_ person for being such an evil man. Her next question was out before she could stop it.

"Revan, why do you sleep with so many women?"

Bastila regretted asking it immediately, seeing the way his whole body tensed and how a guarded light shone out now from his eyes. "Why?" he repeated, and she nodded in a more confident manner than she was feeling. Revan furrowed his dark brows and pursed his lips like he always did when thinking. "I suppose…because they want me to," he answered slowly. "They ask for my services, and I provide – without questions, without strings attached, and without any form of reparation." Revan snorted bitterly. "Basically, I function for one purpose – pleasure."

Bastila noticed the bitter way in which he spoke, and she regretted asking even more, but she was in too deep now and her curiosity was too great. "But you can't tell me that you don't enjoy yourself," she rejoined, though her conviction wavered as soon as she heard the words aloud.

Revan's smile was disturbing. "Oh I never said that I didn't enjoy myself. Physically, it is very gratifying. But that's as far as it goes." He paused, studying her for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

Bastila darted a glance up into his searching gaze and shrugged a little. "I wanted to know, I suppose," she answered quietly.

"Do you think what I do is wrong?" he probed gently.

Bastila bit her bottom lip, her tell when lost in deep thought. "I don't know, Revan. If they want you to do it, then I don't know if I can honestly judge your actions as wrong."

"But do you _think_ it's wrong?"

She sighed. "Yes, I do. I don't think you're doing those women a service by indulging them. I don't think you're doing yourself a service either. I hear the way you speak about this, and I can feel the…the resentment you hold, at being used solely for pleasure. I don't believe that you are as heartless as you pretend to be – I think that knowing you mean nothing to all of those women wears on you. I think that even you, Revan, crave the knowledge that you mean something to someone."

Bastila watched him intently, noticing the way a wall seemed to dissolve in his eyes, and she finally caught a glimpse of the pain Revan held inside.

Revan gave a sad, dark smile. "You think I'm human," he said softly, his tone indefinable. "You would be one of very few." His short laugh was humorless. "For that, I am grateful. I am curious as to what made you come to all of these conclusions, Bastila."

"Wishful thinking?" she proffered. "Watching you interact with me, your doctor, and the medical examiner. Listening to what you say and how you say it. Feeling the emotion in your words. All of those things."

He gave a quiet, "Hmm…" and rubbed his scruffy goatee for a moment. "You know more of me than most people do then."

"Why do you think that is, Revan?" Bastila asked, holding his green gaze evenly.

His eyes flickered for a moment with shadow, and he looked away from her. "I don't know," he responded in a tone that closed the question for now.

A knock at the door made him whip his head around and his face contort into a snarl.

"Malak?" Bastila asked, almost in a whisper.

Revan nodded tersely and strode to the door. He opened and it blocked most of the doorway with his frame, growling out a terse "What?"

Malak gave a short bow at the waist and held out a small, circular shaped disk to his Master. It was about two inches in diameter, and perhaps a half-inch in thickness; Revan recognized it immediately and took it – rather calmly – from Malak's hand. "You found the holocron," he stated flatly, unimpressed.

"Yes, Master. The team that finished searching the cavern where the beast was discovered it about an hour ago, and brought it straight back here," Malak explained.

"Good. Tell the men to pack up. We're leaving this Force-forsaken planet as soon as possible."


	9. Chapter 9

Not as much of a wait this time, eh? Not much violence in this one - first, I had to get them off Rhen Var. Now I can work towards some kind of...I dunno, bloody conflict. Again, I'll be messing with some timelines for that, but hey, since when is canon supposed to be followed anyway?

As always, please read and review.

Disclaimers: None. But if I owned Revan...muha...

Again, thanks to EM for editing my stuff. You were super quick this time! Much thanks to you! (oh and I added a few more things when it gets to Malak...hopefully that'll make it a bit more "medically" correct. Let me know if it's still screwed up.)

* * *

Grunting, Revan lifted yet another plasteel box into the transport that would be taking them 'home' and paused, catching his breath. They would be leaving the next morning, and every available body was being used to pack up all of their equipment. Revan wanted no trace of their presence left behind, save for the things he could not control – like the dead bodies that still froze in that animal's lair. Frowning as a muscle in his forearm twitched, voicing its displeasure at being strained so; he took a moment to survey his surroundings. Malak was not far away – close enough to keep an eye on, but far enough away to put Revan's mind at ease; Bastila was much closer, loading packed boxes into the transport like he was; Sante was overseeing the packing, and aiding with equipment removal and the rest of the men and women were all busy with various jobs lifting, moving, and loading machinery into box, and then into the transport.

Revan's eyes narrowed as he noticed the amount of powdery snow that was being whipped up by the wind. "Snowstorm…" he muttered, his frown deepening.

"Are we going to make it in time?" Bastila's accented voice asked, and he slid his gaze to her, seeing that she was half bent over. Apparently she had just set down a rather heavy plasteel box, and he had to admit the position she was currently occupying was rather perfect for accentuating the slender litheness of her figure. Pushing that thought out of his head for the time being – thoughts like those had been forcing their way into his consciousness more and more of late, and Revan was finding himself getting exasperated over his lack of self-control when it came to the young Jedi.

"Not sure," he replied honestly. "No snowstorm's the same – this one could be on us in the next five minutes, or the next five hours. Hard to tell." Turning fully to all of the men and women working in front of him, he lifted his voice, projecting it in a deep yell. "Pick up the speed!" he bellowed. "Snowstorm's on its way!"

Hefting another ridiculously heavy plasteel box, he let it down again with a resounding thud on the transport's floor, grunting as he pushed it back against the rest of the boxes. Everyone worked in relative silence for a while longer – no more than ten, maybe fifteen minutes – before it started to dawn on all present that visibility had dropped a great deal.

"Lord Revan!" Sante yelled over the whine of the wind that was buffeting them mercilessly.

Revan turned, realizing immediately that it was time to quit. "Get everyone inside!" he yelled back, struggling to make himself heard over the wind. Bastila watched as Revan suddenly moved with a surprising speed, lifting the last three boxes around him into the transport – practically tossing them in there – before he lifted hers with the Force and placed them in the transport as well. He lunged towards her, giving her a firm push away from himself and the transport.

"Go!" he barked. "Get back to the biosphere. Now!" he snapped when she made to protest. A sudden uproar caused both of them to halt and watch in shock as a man, impaled by a piece of machinery, hurled through the air. Revan moved quickly out of the man's path and grimaced as the poor soldier sailed into the open cargo bay of the transport and slammed into all of the boxes. A deep, reverberating snarl ripped through the air, almost deafening in its volume, and Revan's eyes widened as he whipped his head back around.

"Shit…" he cursed. "Shit! Bastila, in the transport now!" He grabbed her and yanked her back, practically throwing her in the skiff's direction.

Stubbornly, she came back to him, grabbing his arm and forcing him around until green was staring directly into grey. "What about you?" Bastila demanded, her grip like a vice on his wrist.

"I have a reason to live yet – now get in the transport!" he answered very cryptically, again shoving her towards the skiff. "Do _not_ argue with me!" he barked, catching her eyes once more, seeing the concern that was reflected for him in those effervescent grey irises; he knew that that same concern shone back at her from his, though subdued. "No matter what anyone who gets on that transport says, do _not_ take off unless that order comes directly from my mouth!"

Bastila nodded and turned, stumbling through the deep snow and struggling against the strength of the wind until she made it to the transport's exit ramp and dragged herself up onto it. As soon as Revan saw her make it to the exit ramp, he turned, preparing to run in the direction of the camp. He was shocked into stillness, however, as another rumbling roar knifed through the screaming wind; in the few moments of visibility that followed that second roar, Revan watched as the curtain of snow parted to allow him a glimpse of the largest cyclone he had ever seen – though perhaps it was because he was so very close to it. The tumultuous wind of the snowstorm had come together to form a whirling vortex of snow, ice, and now, debris from the camp as it tore through it.

A flash of panic raced through Revan as he realized that the Jedi holocron that had been discovered was not on his person…it was still in the biosphere. Cursing, he sprinted in what he calculated _should_ be the direction of his biosphere and felt a flood of relief as the dome sporadically came into view, fully intact – for now. A shrill screech reached his ears over the howling wind as the twister ripped apart something with metal in it; Revan could not see what it was, but it didn't sound too far away. Pushing himself harder to make it through the thick snow that seemed to wrap its cold fingers around his boots and tug them down and hold them fast with every step, he suddenly crashed into the closed door of his biosphere.

Revan frowned, knowing it wasn't a good sign that he couldn't see more than a foot in front of his face. Punching in the entrance code, he stumbled inside of the biosphere and lunged for the holocron on the table near the door. He snatched it up and secured it in a pocket just as something caught his eye – a single vial of the antidote that had been administered to counteract the parasite in his bloodstream. Calling it to his hand with the Force, the Dark Lord gave a quick, cursory glance around the biosphere to make sure he had left nothing else of vital importance. The destruction of everything here – machinery, biospheres and the like – did not perturb him in the least. It was of minimal cost to manufacture it all again; but the important things, like the holocron, the antidote, any information that would be forever lost if destroyed here…those kinds of things Revan would risk his life to save. He understood the value of knowledge, and was willing to put himself in harm's way to salvage it.

The cyclone's snarl again ripped through the air, so loud it made Revan's ears ring after the fact, and the biosphere shuddered from the shock of the sound and the proximity of the twister. Tearing out of the dome as quickly as he could, Revan found himself nearly knocked over by the raw force of the swirling, churning wind. Chancing a glance behind himself, his eyes widened as he saw just how close the cyclone was; pumping arms faster to will his legs on, Revan ground his way through the snow and wind, stumbling repeatedly, nearly falling a few times. He knew that if he fell he would likely not get up. The transport flashed into view for the most miniscule of moments, and Revan felt his strength renewed some – until he was slammed from behind by hundreds of shards of vibroblade-sharp ice. A half-snarl, half-roar emanated from deep within his throat as the shards impacted with him, nearly sending him to his knees. The ice, propelled at such high velocity, ripped through the cloth parts of his armor, some embedding themselves in his skin, others opening small wounds across his back.

An angry growl began to reverberate deep in Revan's chest as the transport splashed into view again, hovering over the snow and moving away in preparation to take off. Using the Force, Revan leapt up and propelled himself towards the still-open exit ramp, slamming his middle into the edge of it painfully. Grasping desperately for a handhold, he wrapped his fingers around one of the hydraulic arms that lifted and lowered the ramp, and with a last burst of strength, flung himself up and over the edge of the ramp. Rolling a few times, he came to rest on the floor of the transport just as the ramp began to close. His facemask had been torn off by the violent wind, and emerald eyes glared out from beneath dark brows, as hard and cold as the ice on the planet's surface.

"Who…the _fuck_…is flying this thing?" the Dark Lord demanded between gasps for air, shoving the antidote in another pocket. He glanced around and saw that, unfortunately, it wasn't Malak who was piloting the craft. Revan's apprentice was sprawled on the floor, blood seeping onto the floor from a rather nasty looking gash on the side of his head.

"His head slammed into the side wall when we began to lift off," Sante explained as he came over to help Revan up. "When we got on, the door to the cockpit was already closed and locked. Malak was about to try and pry it open when we hit turbulence and he cracked his skull open."

"Where's Bastila?" Revan asked, trying to mask the surge of dread that threatened to well up as he did not see Bastila's form.

"Over here," he heard her moan, and a booted foot shot out from behind a few crates that had been strapped down next to the passenger seats. Revan moved to where she was and squatted down, his eyes showing worry and concern.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"Your face looks like it ran through a meat grinder," Bastila commented, her eyes widening some. She reached a hand up and gently touched her fingertips to a small slice on his face. "What happened?"

He buffeted her hand away gently. "Flying shards of ice," he replied shortly. "Are you hurt?"

Bastila held up her left hand and he saw immediately that at least two fingers were dislocated, perhaps broken. Removing his gloves, Revan very gently grasped her hand with his two and inspected her fingers. "I don't think they're broken," he murmured. "Maybe a fracture or two. I need to pop them back in, or you could lose use of them."

"I know," she said quietly but with authority, her eyes showing a pervading calm that Revan found began to seep into him as well. Though, he thought, perhaps that was a result of the strange connection they seemed to have. He reminded himself that he needed to look into that, to see if they were bonded like he thought. "I've already popped that one back in," she finished, waggling her little finger a small bit.

Revan was impressed, and backed off a bit. "Do you want to do the other two?"

Bastila let her head fall back against the wall. "Not particularly – I'm shaking too much."

He saw that her hands were indeed trembling fiercely. "All right. Do whatever you need to get through the pain, because I know fingers hurt. You won't hurt me any, so use me as you need," he told her, shifting slightly and getting a firmer grip on her hand. Bastila reached up her other hand and placed it on his shoulder, gripping his armor there lightly. "Ready?" he asked, and she met his eyes and nodded. "On three. One…two…"

A crack broke the relative silence and Bastila let out a small cry that turned quickly into a growl through clenched teeth. She shifted her hand to the back of his neck and dug her short fingernails into his skin, pulling him down some, riding out the intense discomfort.

"That…wasn't…on three…" she ground out, glaring at him.

"I know," was all Revan replied as he grasped the next finger that needed to be put back into joint.

"On three?" Bastila asked sarcastically before crying out again and yanking Revan's head down, burying her face into his neck.

"No, not on three," he said, letting go of her finger but keeping hold of her hand. "Take your time," he said, his voice coming out in a quiet rumble, the sound soothing in Bastila's ear. Revan enjoyed the feeling of her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to her; the feeling of her warm breath washing over his neck and the way her lips brushed against the sensitive skin there every now and then set the area tingling.

Bastila breathed slowly and rhythmically, trying to concentrate on Revan more than the aching, burning pain in her fingers that hurt so very much. His skin was surprisingly warm for having just been stuck in the middle of a snowstorm; he shifted once, and she felt scratchy stubble rub against her cheek, telling her that he still needed to shave; she noticed he smelled of sweat and the residual, masculine scent of perhaps a body wash – it was a clean, salty smell that she didn't mind in the least. The fact that he was being so comforting, or at least, allowing her to use him for her own comfort was what made it worth so much. Though she didn't want to, Bastila pulled back, knowing that lingering too long could mar the emotionless image he wanted to present in front of his men. As she glanced around though, she realized that he had told her to take her time because they were blocked from sight by the crates that were around them.

Her hand was still on the back of his neck, and when she leaned back from him, his face still ended up very close to hers. Bastila's brows furrowed as she saw the many tiny slices on his face, knowing that those must've burned intensely. They hit another patch of turbulence and Revan was knocked forward to his knees; he stopped his upper body's progress with his forearm against the wall. But, despite his attempt to halt, his and Bastila's proximity had been too much. As he was forced forward, Bastila had watched, almost in slow motion, as he cocked his head to the side to avoid smacking his forehead against any part of her face. This instead meant that if he hit her, his jaw would do most of the damage; fortunately he did not hit her very hard.

In fact, he barely hit her at all. But it was enough.

As he had shifted, Bastila had attempted to do so as well, though her reflexes were not quite as good. Revan's hand cradled the back of her head, preventing her from knocking herself out from behind. Thinking that some kind of impact was still imminent, she had screwed her eyes shut in preparation for the pain she figured was coming – instead, a very different sensation burned her senses awake. Bastila felt something soft and cool press up suddenly against her lips, and her eyes flew open in surprise, not comprehending. She caught a glimpse of Revan's cut up face before the lights suddenly cut out inside the transport and the soft coolness slid roughly away from her lips. The tingle that replaced that sensation, along with the burn that coursed through her and the way her pulse and temperature spiked convinced her of what she already knew, but refused to accept.

Somehow, Revan had managed to keep from slamming their heads together, but he had not been able to stop his momentum soon enough to keep part of his face from hitting hers. She had felt his stubble rake across her chin and left cheek after the sensation on her lips, and her skin burned from where that sandpaper-like friction had taken place; he was almost straddling her, propped up on his knees which were on either side of her legs. His large hand was still holding the back of her head and her hand was still on the back of his neck.

"Are you all right?" he whispered, his voice still growling from his throat being seared with cold air earlier.

"Surprisingly, yes," he heard her reply, though her voice trembled slightly. Revan pulled himself back slowly, almost expecting more turbulence; when none came, he moved back some more. He felt Bastila's hand slide forward, up his jaw, then over his lips briefly before coming to rest on his cheek again. "You didn't hit your head?" she inquired, her voice still shaking slightly.

Revan, with his uncanny ability to see in the dark, saw her face clearly and shook his head, knowing she was probably using the Force to see him as well. "No I didn't, thankfully." He paused, glancing up and around. "Doesn't look like the lights will be coming back on any time soon. And…" he leaned back substantially and directed his gaze towards the cockpit, "I should pay our pilot a visit."

Bastila was indeed using the Force to penetrate the darkness, and saw him look back at her. "Let me guess," she said as he opened his mouth, "stay here?"

A grin upturned the right corner of his mouth – Bastila enjoyed the sight – and he nodded. "Brilliant as always," he said as he stood. "Yell if anything happens while I'm…_chatting_ with the pilot."

She nodded and watched him disappear beyond the line of sight made by the crates. With the same fingertips that had run across Revan's lips, Bastila touched her own and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the wall.

* * *

Revan did not let his thoughts focus on anything else but removing the jackass who had taken off without his permission. Checking the door, he indeed found it locked; that wasn't a problem. Unclipping his lightsaber from his belt, he ignited it, casting an eerie crimson glow around the passenger bay. With a quick calculation, Revan plunged the energy blade into the locking mechanism of the door and watched with satisfaction as it slid open without further protest. The man in the pilot's seat turned and his eyes widened and filled with terror upon seeing the Dark Lord's malevolent face illuminated with a bloody crimson color. He tried to scramble away.

"Where are you going?" the Dark Lord growled menacingly, tauntingly. The man made whimpering, unintelligible noises and tried to back up further, but got nowhere. Revan flicked off his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt again, grabbing the man's armor with both hands and hauling him out of the cockpit, still whimpering and blubbering. "Shut the hell up," Revan snarled, and the man complied immediately. "Take the controls," he ordered Sante as he passed. He dragged the man to the very end of the passenger bay and paused, his hand hovering over the switch that would lower the exit ramp.

"Everyone, hold on to something!" he barked, waiting for a few more seconds, knowing the survivors would have to grope in the dark. Smashing the button with his fist, he grasped a metal handrail and dangled the man out at arm's length as the exit ramp lowered. The air was sucked out of the bay in a whoosh and snow swirled inside – they still had not cleared the planet's atmosphere. "This is what happens to those who disobey my orders!" Revan bellowed above the roar of the engines and the air. Opening his clenched fist, the Dark Lord watched with a mixture of satisfied anger and impassiveness as the man flew out of the bay with one last scream. Pressing the button again, Revan closed the cargo bay and felt…safe, as the darkness again enveloped him.

Leaning back against the exit ramp, he let his thoughts go to what had happened when he had been pitched forward towards Bastila. He had stopped himself from accidentally slamming his head against hers…but what he had felt…He brought his hand up and touched his fingertips to his lips, remembering the feeling of Bastila's fingertips running across them. His mouth curled into a faint smirk as he realized that Bastila's lips were just as soft as they looked.

* * *

Revan was the first to step out of the transport, Bastila, the second. Infinitely grateful to be back on his own ship again, though he did not show it, Revan held back for a moment, watching the procession of survivors as they filed out of the passenger bay. He was anxious, Bastila could tell that much, but why? At that moment, Revan's doctor stumbled out of the transport, and Bastila watched as Revan grabbed him and pulled him into a rough but relieved embrace for a few seconds. They conversed briefly; the Dark Lord asked a question, and the doctor paused, shaking his head sadly. He handed Revan something and walked slowly away. Bastila came up beside Revan and looked down at the Dark Lord's open palm, seeing a wedding band resting there.

"She didn't make it," he said, his voice not carrying its usual power. "He said…he said that the ceiling collapsed on her." Bastila moved to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but paused as he sighed and let his head fall back. "How many? How many will have to die before I join them?" she thought she heard him whisper, though he did it so softly she almost couldn't make out his words. Bastila realized that she was catching another glimpse of Revan as a man, and she did not want to ruin this moment; lowering her hand back to her side, she waited. Revan turned his head to look down at her, and again caught the concern that seemed ever-present in Bastila's eyes when he gazed into them. He glanced back behind himself when some noise caught his attention, and saw that medical personnel were attempting to move Malak's still unconscious form from the transport.

As Revan turned slightly, Bastila caught sight of his back, and more importantly, all the bloody holes that littered it. "Revan…"

He shifted his attention back to her with a slightly inquisitive raise of his eyebrows.

"Are all of these from ice shards?" she asked, gently working a finger into one of the openings in his armor, pressing it against his body and feeling a warm wetness against her fingertip. He winced, and she drew her finger back quickly, seeing blood on it. "Sorry…" she mumbled.

His smile was soft. "It's all right, and yes, all from ice shards. For a moment or two I was encased in nothing but swirling ice."

Bastila's eyebrows furrowed as she realized just how close he had probably come to death, and just how close she had come to losing him…yet again.

_What does it matter if he dies?_ A voice in the back of her head asked.

_It matters because I don't want him to die,_ she shot back.

_Why?_

_Because I care enough about him to see that he would live, and I don't particularly wish to end up in Malak's hands,_ she answered firmly, silencing her mental voice for now.

"…with Sante," she heard Revan say as she came back to reality.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said that you should go back to your room with Sante. I need to tell her husband," he motioned with the hand that was holding his friend's wedding band, and Bastila understood.

"All right," she agreed. "Sante is…?"

"Right here," the soldier said from behind her, causing her to jump a little. "Back to her room?" he asked the Dark Lord.

"Directly."

"Yes sir. Bastila, if you'll follow me please…"

Bastila complied and walked after Sante in silence, finding herself suddenly very tired. The trip back to her room was quick, quiet, and uneventful, and she stepped inside of the comfortably furnished space with a feeling of gratefulness such as she had never had before for the things Revan gave her. The first thing she did was to strip herself of the armor and thermal suit, and toss them away with a small amount of disdain. When fully unclothed, Bastila turned on the shower, set the water to a hot but not scalding temperature, and stepped beneath it; the feeling was so very pleasurable to her cold, sore, tired body that a soft, breathy moan escaped from her lips as the water poured over her bare skin.

She took a long, luxurious shower and reluctantly stepped out into the bathroom again, an equally luxurious towel wrapped tightly around her slender frame. She dried off and dressed, stepping into her cooler room and heading straight for her comfortable, queen-sized bed.

"Taking a nap already?" Revan's deep, smooth, amused voice said.

For the second time that day, Bastila started slightly and whirled to face him, glaring at him before placing a hand over her eyes and trying to calm her racing heart. "Well I _was_…it's obvious that I'm not going to now, seeing as you're here. What do you want?" she asked, only slightly irritably. Bastila noticed that all of the small cuts from his face were gone – Force healed, she assumed – and that he was clean-shaven. He must've showered while she had been bathing as well.

"I was simply checking on you," he said with a small shrug. He stood from the arm of the chair he had been perched on and took a few steps towards her, reaching for her left hand. "How are your fingers?"

Bastila hadn't even thought about her injured hand since the transport ship incident, and now she held it up and looked at it. Her fingers were still purplish blue and she realized that they ached intensely. "They hurt," she said, a little surprised.

"Here," she heard Revan murmur as he grasped her smaller hand with his much larger, warmer one.

"I am capable of healing myself," she said, her voice hinting at irritation as she pulled away from his grip. Revan let go of her hand and she missed the warmth his hand gave, berating herself – albeit weakly – for enjoying his touch.

"I'll leave you to your nap now," he said, slightly aloof, turning to go.

"What are you going to do?" Bastila couldn't help but ask, feeling guilty for almost snapping at him earlier when he had simply been trying to help her.

He paused at the door that connected their rooms and looked back at her. "I'm going to see if I can get this Jedi holocron to work. I'm used to working with the cube kind…but this one is circular. Different from most. I have a feeling it will be a bit…difficult to crack."

"May I help?" _There goes my nap…_

She missed the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth, but she heard the pleased tone of his voice. "Certainly."

Bastila entered his room behind him, following him to a spacious desk that she had already encountered once before. Her nose throbbed a few times in protest and she absently rubbed it as Revan pulled up a chair next to himself and sat down, motioning for her to do the same. He leaned over and rummaged through a drawer, drawing out a few different holo-discs and some data pads. The surface of the desk looked like glass, and Bastila realized once Revan had inserted the holo-discs into slots in the desk that the glass doubled as a screen for viewing information. Revan had pulled up files on Jedi holocrons: their history, what they generally looked like, what they held, what famous Jedi owned personal holocrons, etc.

"Search through this and see if you can find any mention of circular ones for me," he told her as he began to skim the information. Bastila did the same, and though both of them searched for a good hour, neither of them could find any clues as to exactly what kind of holocron they had in their possession.

"There's nothing here," Bastila finally said in exasperation, sitting back against her chair. "This is a fruitless effort in futility!"

"Patience, dear Bastila, is a virtue, even among Sith. We will find something," Revan counseled, though he felt just as she did – exasperated and frustrated.

"Don't call me dear," she muttered as she grudgingly resumed reading. She knew he was right, but did not like being corrected, especially by him. It was…embarrassing. Bastila glanced at him and saw that though he was reading the documents on the screen, he was smiling in a knowing manner. "Oh what now?" she demanded, ready to smack him.

She was tired and wanted to sleep – why had she volunteered to help in the first place?

_So you could be with him._

Bastila growled inwardly. She hated how she was so damn honest with herself sometimes. She was mad at herself, and a bit irritated with him, but so help her, he was going to catch the brunt of it.

Revan chuckled, shifting his eyes to her lovely face. "Don't like being reprimanded?"

"No," she said shortly.

"Why?"

Bastila paused, her mouth slightly open, and looked up at him for a few moments. "I suppose I don't like knowing that I'm not as good at something as I should be," she said quietly.

Revan patted her leg with his hand, and a tingle shot up her thigh and settled in her lower abdomen. "No one is perfect," he began, "least of all me. So when or if I reprimand you, don't take it too harshly – you are a much better person than I am, I realize that fully."

Bastila glanced down at his hand that was now resting just above her knee, voicing something she had thought only in her head. "You are a surprisingly good person for being such an evil man, Revan."

He removed his hand and gazed into her eyes. "You don't know me," he said softly. "You can't make that judgement."

"I think I know you well enough to make my own judgements," she countered.

"If you think that, then far be it from me to disagree with you." He stared hard at the screen in front of them for a second or two, then back up at her. "You should get some rest."

Bastila shrugged. "It's not as if I have anything too terribly important to do tomorrow," she said with a trace of sarcasm. "I can stay up. You're the one who needs rest – you've nearly died at least twice in the past few weeks, and now you've been through the middle of a snowstorm. Why don't you get some sleep?" she ended gently, nodding her head towards his large, plush looking bed. _That must be very comfortable,_ she thought.

Revan turned his head towards it as well, sighing, knowing she was right. "All right," he said wearily, acquiescing. "But you promise to wake me if you find anything?"

Bastila smiled – he was like a child who was afraid he would miss the world if he napped. "I promise, Revan. Now go."

He eyed her for a few moments longer before pushing back from the desk and standing. As he walked towards his bed, she watched him grasp the hem of his shirt and pull it up over his head, depositing it on the floor next to the mattress. The muscles in his shoulders tensed and rolled beneath his skin, a sight that was utterly sexy. To her immense surprise, his pants came next, leaving him in nothing but an undergarment, and a very tight one at that.

_He has a very nice - _

Bastila halted that thought before it ran away on her and quickly turned back to the screen below, scanning her eyes over the many documents. Revan had already programmed in a highly specific search for the computer to run itself, but Bastila was still skimming in case it missed anything. She heard Revan slide beneath the sheets of his large bed, and she chanced a glance in his direction, seeing that he only pulled the sheet – he was using a single one – up to his waist, below his navel. Obviously, he didn't like the feeling of being covered when he slept, she mused. He wasn't very far away, so she could easily see the tattoo that spanned a good deal of his skin, starting just above his left elbow and going up his arm to cover his pec, shoulder, and just beneath his shoulder blade.

He shifted and rolled onto his right side, and she saw that the ink crawled over his trapezius and up the back of his neck slightly. How had she not noticed that before? Bastila relaxed back against the chair for a little while, letting her eyes roam over his body as they wished. Revan rolled over in her direction, and she was presented with a whole new group of wonderfully toned muscles to inspect. He really was attractive…she had to admit that, but it was his eyes that drew her in most. She wanted to know what he hid behind those beautiful green walls, and why he was so adamant about keeping it locked away.

Just then, Revan's eyes flicked open, and Bastila held her breath, awed by the way the dim light seemed to reflect off of his irises and shocked that he had known she was staring at him. He held her gaze for a little while longer; she felt her eyes widen a slight bit as he licked his lips a rather lingering way. An image of Revan claiming her mouth with his flashed into her mind before dissipating as he slowly rolled onto his back and broke their held stare. Her own lips tingled at the remembrance of his on them for the briefest of moments, but still soft and cool, an altogether shockingly wonderful feeling. Bastila didn't consider that a kiss – he had not meant to do it, and she had not returned the gesture – but the fact still remained that his lips had touched hers…and she wanted to feel them against hers again.

The image of Revan kissing her again filtered into her mind, but it seemed less clear, less…vivid than before when she had been looking into Revan's intense, almost glowing eyes. Had he somehow given her that picture, somehow worked it into her mind? Was the transference of thoughts or images like the transference of emotion – done sometimes without thought between two Force-sensitives who were in close proximity to one another? Or was it only possible through something more…binding? Bastila had not failed to notice the anomaly that was her perception of Revan's emotions. It wasn't normal, by any means, especially since he tried so hard to smother his emotions, but she had failed to give it serious thought until now.

Was it just a coincidence, the will of the Force, or something physical between them? Her subconscious reminded her of the feeling of connectedness with him that she had experienced upon pulling Revan's dying life signature up from the abyss. Was that what this was? They were…connected in some way? But how? For how long? Bastila let out a soft groan and rubbed her temples, a headache threatening to overpower her. There were too many questions to be answered right now on the subject of her and Revan's "connection"; a soft beep directed her attention back to the desk/computer that she was sitting at. Apparently, the thoughts that had just consumed her had done so for a good twenty minutes. During that time, the computer had finished its search and turned up a few different leads, which it had so graciously highlighted for her within the selected documents.

"Hello there," she murmured softly as the first link presented her with a picture of a holocron that looked remarkably similar to the one sitting a few inches away from her on the desk. The file talked of when the holocron was widely used by the Jedi – centuries ago, what kind of information it held – voice only, and how specific markings on the holocron's surface would give hint to what kind of information was stored within. Taking a quick look at the clock, Bastila was surprised to find that she had been immersed in the fascinating data for nearly an hour. She glanced at Revan's sleeping form and decided this wasn't enough to warrant waking him just yet.

"But this might be…" she muttered under her breath as the next document she rifled through gave specific instructions on how holocrons were sealed and how to open them. Quietly getting up from her seat, she padded silently over to where the Dark Lord still slept peacefully. Pausing, she allowed her curiosity to take hold of her, and she placed the pads of her fingers very lightly on one of the lines of black ink that marked the skin of his left pectoral. Tracing upwards for a short distance, Bastila lifted her touch, replacing it on his newly-trimmed goatee and rubbing there for a moment, feeling the almost scratchy consistency of the hair there. The pad of her index finger found Revan's lips, and rested there lightly for a while, feeling how this time, they were warm instead of cool like before. Running her finger along his bottom lip, she sighed softly and closed her eyes, wondering how she was ever going continue resisting this man when she found that she no longer wanted to.

She snatched her hand back as a sudden, intense burn ran through her index finger and up her arm; Revan, in his sleep, had licked his lips again and had inadvertently licked the tip of her finger – a highly sensitive place. The throb that had first assaulted her on Rhen Var in Revan's bed, then again in the transport, took up residence once more deep in her gut, making an annoyingly pleasurable feeling pulse through her lower abdomen. Why he had to have that effect on her, she didn't know, but Bastila could not deny that she both enjoyed it and cursed it whenever it happened. Rubbing her finger absently against the fabric of her pajamas, she took a breath to calm herself and gently shook Revan's left shoulder.

He came awake with a start and grabbed her wrist with an impossibly strong grip, yanking her down towards him before, more quickly than she thought possible, flipping over and pinning her beneath his body. Both of Bastila's hands were shoved against Revan's bare chest, trying to keep him from crushing her; he had effectively rendered her legs useless by shoving them aside and settling between them.

"While this is…mmph…very flattering, Revan…" Bastila began dryly, struggling against him physically, and struggling against herself – more specifically, the reaction she was having to this situation. He was so warm…and it felt good to be pressed up against him like she was, though she tried desperately to deny it.

_Now if only it wasn't so damn wrong,_ her mind complained.

_It's not,_ she replied, shocking herself immensely.

Revan shifted above her, and she refocused on him, seeing that his eyes were again glowing eerily in the dim light. He was seemingly coming into coherent thought as well, and a highly amused expression took precedence over his features. "Care to tell me how we ended up like this?" he asked, not letting her go.

"It's your fault," Bastila retorted, struggling against him again, but stopping as she heard him hiss out a short breath.

"Oh is that so? Pardon my instinctual reaction to kill anyone who wakes me. It's only saved my life a few dozen times," he snapped back, obviously angry as he roughly let go of her, shoving her slightly back into the mattress as he did so.

"Using brute force won't scare me," Bastila told his back curtly.

"No?" Revan asked as he half-turned, his eyes catching the light and washing white. "What will, Bastila?"

She sat up sullenly, feeling disappointment wash over her that the entire situation hadn't turned out more favorable. _You mean more dangerous_, her mind again interrupted, though it was right. In this case, favorable would have been dangerous for her; she wanted that danger because it was forbidden, but she was still too afraid of it to actively pursue it. It was too ingrained in her to run away from emotions like those, desires like those. But Revan seemingly had no problem with such things…Bastila shook her head, dismissing any thought that Revan wanted anything emotional from her. He had already said he would sleep with her, and Bastila was fairly certain that was all he wanted or needed from her.

"I found something about your damn holocron," she muttered crossly, not getting up from his bed. "You told me to wake you."

"That I did," the Dark Lord replied. "But I just expected you to yell at me."

"I don't wake people like that – it's rude."

"I didn't know that."

"And I didn't know you'd try to kill me."

"If you're waiting for an apology –"

"I'll wait for however long it takes."

Revan let out a frustrated sigh and turned fully to stare at Bastila, meeting her defiant gaze. "Are you trying to piss me off or break me?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"A little bit of both, I think," Bastila answered with a devious grin.

He stared her down for a little while longer, and she saw his chest and head rise and fall shortly as he grunted. He turned and walked away without saying anything else, sliding gracefully into his chair in front of the desk. Bastila watched him, seeing the way he squinted against the brighter light that emanated from the desk's screen, inspecting the way he sat, the way he moved, the way he breathed…everything about him that she could. He fascinated her, and she silently feared that her desire to learn everything she could about him was slowly becoming an obsession.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice still carrying that sleepy, sensual growl.

Bastila slid off of his bed, her feet hitting the carpeted floor silently. "What is what?" she queried as she walked over to where he was and gazed down at the screen over his shoulder. "Oh; that document holds instructions, supposedly on how to open the holocron – depending on how it's been locked, of course. This one…" Bastila trailed, placing her left hand on his left shoulder and leaning across him to reach for something, "if I can find it…"

Revan closed his eyes and willed himself to stay calm. His nerves were buzzing from having Bastila beneath him on his bed – _So close…_his mind had whispered to him – and her touch had always been so distracting. Now, with her hand on him, and her chest pressed against the back of his shoulders as she leaned across him to reach for another document, Revan called upon all his faculties to keep himself composed. She was caught up in her discovery, and as such, gave little thought to her actions' effects.

"Maybe…ah, here it is!" Bastila dragged the document to the forefront of the screen's contents with her index finger, using the touch-screen operated device. She shifted back to her original position, and Revan blinked very slowly as her chest dragged across his shoulders and the back of his neck. He noticed that she kept her hand on his shoulder, and he found that though he did not usually like being touched by other people, he did not mind the gentle, warm pressure of her palm and fingers against his skin. In fact, he realized that he rather enjoyed it. It was nice, her touch; very soft and gentle – completely different from anything else he had experienced. Every contact made his skin tingle in a deliciously agonizing way that challenged his self-control.

"This one tells what kind of information these kinds of holocrons hold, when they were used…who used them, things of that sort," Bastila finished a little triumphantly, a satisfied smile curving her full – _and soft,_ his brain reminded him – lips.

Revan could feel her excitement over finding what he had requested her to find, and so he smiled gently back up at her. "Thank you," he said quietly. "This will be helpful, I'm sure."

Her smile faltered. "It's not what you wanted…" she trailed, her eyes lowering to the floor, her voice sounding almost frustrated.

Revan was slightly confused. Had he said it wasn't what he wanted? No…so why did she think that? "I didn't say that, Bastila. This is exactly what I was looking for, and I am very sure that it will be helpful to me. Why would you think this wasn't what I wanted?"

Bastila's eyes hesitantly rose to his. "You didn't seem…excited, or relieved, I suppose. It seemed that what I found wasn't…worth enough to warrant anything."

"So I didn't appear to appreciate what you had found for me," he said, making sure he understood. Bastila simply looked at him, and he could tell she felt very awkward; though, he noticed, her hand still hadn't left his shoulder. "I didn't intend to convey that what you found was unsatisfactory in any way, and for that, I apologize."

Bastila understood that what he had just done was likely the most apology she was going to get from him at any time, that he wasn't an emotional man, and that their "relationship" was a distant, businesslike partnership to him at best, but she couldn't help but hope he would do more for once. A silence had fallen between them, Revan still gazing up at her with his soulful green irises, Bastila still looking down at him with her bright grey ones. His skin was warm beneath her hand, and she could distinctly feel his deltoid shift and slide every time he moved his arm; it was an interesting feeling, his muscle moving, and it reminded her of just how strong he really was. She remembered the feeling of his muscular chest against her palms and fingers when he was on top of her a few minutes ago, the way his warmth seeped through her pajamas to her skin, how his weight was a good kind of pressure – heavy, but in a good way, making her feel protected and safe.

Bastila had almost been in his arms, and though there had been nervousness at the awkward position – the fact that they had been on Revan's bed had made infinitely more awkward – it had still been a strangely comforting, strangely _right_ thing, to be that close to him. Revan, though Bastila did not know it, felt in a similar fashion about the whole situation. Though he had not been entirely coherent while pinning her at first, he had been able to sense, to _feel_, and he had felt her beneath him. Her soft warmth, her hands on his chest, the way her knees had tightly gripped around his legs and how good that had felt; it had drawn his hips closer to hers, something that had surprised and greatly pleased him, and felt so very satisfying. He had noticed that though her hands had been planted firmly against his chest, she had not pushed away. Revan had expected her to shove away from him immediately, and the fact that she hadn't made him wonder.

"What are you thinking about?" he heard Bastila ask softly, giving his shoulder a barely perceptible squeeze.

"Hm, lots of things," Revan replied, refocusing on her beautiful eyes. Although, he mused, anything he could've focused on would have been beautiful.

Bastila finally moved to sit down, and Revan felt the way her fingertips dragged across the back of his shoulders acutely as she took a step or two to the other side of him. It set his nerve endings on fire, and made goosebumps appear where her touch had just been. Bastila's brows furrowed as she saw this, but she let it go.

"What kinds of things?" she probed gently, resting her hand on his forearm as she sat down in her own chair.

He shifted towards her slightly, still peering into her eyes. He loved their color, and most of all, the way they always gazed back at him softly, compassionately. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm curious as to what goes on in that mind of yours," Bastila answered, leaning slightly towards him as well, though it was subtly defiant gesture.

"Well, right now…" Revan paused, realizing he had been thinking about her. He couldn't tell her that – that was too open, too…well, whatever it was, it was far too risky. "Right now, I'm thinking of what might be in this holocron…I'm grateful that you're helping me…wondering how much brain damage Malak will suffer from splitting open his skull…" He shrugged. "Lots of things."

Bastila laughed, and Revan enjoyed the quiet, melodic sound. "I'm hoping he goes into an irreversible coma."

It was the Dark Lord's turn to chuckle, and Bastila's turn to relish the sound. "Yes…" Revan shifted forward now, towards the desk, and reached across his female companion for the holocron. This brought their faces close together for the second time that day, and Revan chanced a glance at Bastila. She was watching him calmly and her eyebrows rose a fraction as he looked at her.

"You know…that was the first real conversation I've had with anyone in a long time," the Dark Lord admitted slowly as he sat back, waiting to see her reaction.

A small, surprised smile broke across her face. "I…don't really know what to say to that, Revan," she offered hesitantly.

He allowed a smile to curve the right corner of his mouth. "I just find it ironic that I'm sitting here, in my room…barely dressed, talking to my prisoner, and finding it a more enjoyable thing than…well, most other things I could think of that occupy my time." He finished with a sly smile.

"Hm, yes, barely dressed," she murmured with an indefinable look, pausing for a little while. "What did you expect from me as a prisoner?" Bastila asked curiously, changing the subject.

"I expected you to be belligerent, or perhaps not speak to me at all. I expected you to hate me for capturing you and holding you against your will. I expected you to try to escape by now, and I'm surprised that you haven't," he answered honestly, not shocked by the subject shift. He had come to expect it from her.

"Well I have most certainly been belligerent…"

Revan gave a short chuckle again. "Yes, you have, but only verbally – and not too greatly at that. More often than not, you do this."

"This?" Bastila asked, slightly confused.

"You try to talk to me. Try to figure me out. Interact with me like I'm a person, not the Dark Lord of the Sith or your captor," he replied.

"You are a person Revan – a very complicated, enigmatic man, and the Dark Lord of the Sith, and my captor. You are all of that," she told him, glancing down at her hand on his forearm as she felt him twitch. He was gripping the armrest of the chair and the muscle of his forearm was tensing, causing the twitch she felt. This was the longest she had stayed in physical contact with him, and Bastila found that she was strongly averse to breaking it; as long as she had been touching him, he had been talking, and she wanted to keep it that way.

He shifted his hips and slid downward in the seat some, bringing his left hand up to absently mess with his goatee. "There are a lot of things you could say about me, but I suppose that sums it up in the barest of manners."

Bastila looked at him for a moment, and realized her gaze was wandering – though truthfully, that was not completely her fault. It wasn't every day she was able to sit in the presence of a man who was clad only in a skintight undergarment. This time, her eyes were drawn to his abdomen, more specifically the ripple of muscle that was apparent there. Bastila did not know too much about strength training, but she could tell that Revan went for definition and power, not muscle mass; she didn't mind that decision at all.

"What are _you_ thinking about?" she heard his deep, rumbling voice ask, a smile hovering around his mouth.

A small blush colored her face. "What you said," she answered half-truthfully. "And the fact that what you captured me for, you've never really talked to me about."

"Your Battle Meditation? Yes, I haven't pressed that subject."

"Why not?"

A smirk twitched his lips. "Because I know what your answer will still be: an emphatic no. I find that there is no point arguing semantics with you because it doesn't change your mind. Though I suppose if you wished to discuss it…" Revan trailed, making a gesture with his left hand's fingers before resting them back on his goatee.

"I do want to know what stroke of insanity hit you and possessed you to think that I would help you," Bastila answered, finally lifting her hand from his forearm and crossing her arms over her chest.

_**Again with your insolent obstinacy…and thinking that you know me.**_ The Dark Lord's laugh was deeply amused. "Bastila, I have never believed that you would help me." He laughed again as her face showed utter confusion. "Though, you are helping me without knowing it."

She glared at him warily. "What are you talking about?"

"Your Battle Meditation. As long as you aren't using it to help your Jedi friends, you are inadvertently aiding me. I don't need you to use it _for_ me; I just don't need you to use it _against_ me." He paused very shortly. "And please don't think about trying to use it against me now, what with your Force suppression collar off. I _will_ be able to sense it, and there _will_ be serious repercussions for an action such as that." Revan leaned forward a good deal, placing his face close to hers again. "I like you, Bastila," he growled softly, enticingly, making a small shiver run up her spine. "Don't make me regret that decision."

"And what if I don't care if you like me or not?" she shot back defiantly, raising her chin stubbornly.

Revan's grin was a little wicked as he leaned in closer, placing his mouth next to her ear. "Oh but you do," he continued to growl sensually, "or else you wouldn't be here right now."

"Here? Where is 'here' exactly?" Bastila asked, her voice lowering into a borderline seductive purr, a fact that surprised her. Was she…? No…

"In my room, with me," he replied, grinning at her new tone.

"Oh right, of course, since your presence is _so_ magnetic," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hmm, you seem to think so," he said, still near her ear. Revan moved his right hand to the armrest of her chair and scooted himself forward slightly, very subtlely.

Bastila glanced down at his hand and scooted back. "Is that so? And just what makes you think that?"

"Hm…the fact that you decided to help me with this instead of sleep…what happened in the transport…" Revan trailed, wanting to see how she'd react to that.

She pulled back completely and shifted until his face was directly in front of hers, until his eyes were close enough for her to see the shards of grey that mingled with the green glass of his irises. "That was an accident," she said quietly, firmly.

"I don't recall you pushing me away."

"It happened too fast, you know that."

"I meant afterwards. You didn't push me back. In fact, you did something like this…" Revan grasped her right hand and brought it up to his face, rubbing it along his cheek, then brushing the tips of her fingers against his lips.

"I thought you might've hit your head," she spoke, still quietly, struggling to keep his gaze as she practically snatched her hand away from his grip.

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't – "

"Revan…please," Bastila interrupted, her eyes almost pleading as she looked at him.

Revan, a little frustrated, sat back and gazed at her for awhile. With swift, practiced movements he saved all of the files Bastila had found for him and stood from his chair, grabbing the holocron. "I think we're done for tonight," he said a bit stiffly, his eyes walled off and closed again, Bastila noticed, the grey in his eyes like flecks of steel now.

She simply nodded and got up from her own chair, padding silently towards her room. When she reached the door that connected their rooms, she paused and turned back. "I hope it was worth it, whatever information ends up being in that holocron."

Revan stopped and simply stared at her as she stood there, scrutinizing her for a long moment, hearing the accusation in her words. "You wouldn't last a week in my position," he told her coldly, his previous light, almost mischievous demeanor utterly banished from his person. "Your heart couldn't take it; your soul would die. And no matter what you end up thinking of me, and no matter if you believe me or not, I am trying to shield you from that," he said, pointing a finger in her direction. "You have not seen a _fraction_ of the evils I am capable of committing," he growled.

"No, but I have seen a fraction of the good you are capable of doing," Bastila replied, taking a step towards him. "It's that man that I want to talk to, that man who intrigues me enough to stay when I should probably go."

"You're searching for something that isn't there, Bastila," Revan spoke back, wearily but firmly.

"You're not an evil man Revan, no matter what you may think of yourself. And I'm not searching for something that isn't there; I'm just searching for something that you've buried."

Revan abruptly tossed the holocron onto his bed, and walked back over to his desk, rummaging through a drawer for a short while. When he straightened, he was holding a holo-disc in his hand. He walked over to her and held the holo-disc out, waiting for her to take it. "If it's buried, then I suppose you'll have to dig a little deeper then, won't you?"

* * *

An awful, unrelenting pressure pounded in his head as he broke the surface of consciousness, and a metallic-tinged groan escaped into the air.

"Welcome back," someone – a man – said flatly. There was a hint of displeasure was in that voice as well. Malak struggled to force his eyes open more, but they simply would not comply; not with the searing brightness of the fluorescent lights above him. "You've been unconscious for nearly three days, and it is possible you will have some memory loss from the blow to your head. Impossible to predict though, so just don't be surprised if something you feel you should know suddenly isn't in your head anymore," the man finished, the tone of his voice like one who was trying, and failing, to ignore a foul smell.

"Where am I?" Malak croaked, his gruff voice even rougher on the ears than usual.

"The med-bay." No other explanation.

"He's awake." That voice – Malak knew it. Intimately. It conjured both pleasant and unpleasant feelings. Who was it? It was also flat, displeased, like the other one.

"Just woke up a few seconds ago. Vitals seem normal, but I did warn him that he'll likely have some memory impairment. That smack he took was serious. His brain was exposed, though very marginally, through a crack in his skull. I have no idea how much damage was done before we got to him."

"He's…_resilient_," the other voice, the newer one said carefully. "I'm sure whatever memory loss he has he'll make up for soon."

"My brain was exposed? To what?" Malak demanded, the thick, heavy dredges of blackness slowly draining from him.

"Sub-zero weather, for a very short period of time – perhaps thirty seconds at most," the first voice answered.

"What could that – " the second voice began, and suddenly something shot through Malak; a lance of pain that might have been altogether too real.

"Revan!" he half-yelled, his voice much louder than he intended. It sounded panicked, scared…alone. Malak wasn't sure what significance the name had, or who it belonged to, he just knew that "Revan" was important – important enough to make him feel fear, and pain. But was it real, the pain? His damaged brain could not give him an answer.

The Dark Lord, having long ago abandoned sympathy for his friend upon seeing what kind of monster was capable of hiding beneath the surface, felt a small tendril of pity work its way into his chest. It _had_ been his fault Malak had been drawn into all of this in the first place…it was his fault his best friend had been exposed to such pure darkness. It wasn't, however, his fault that Malak had not had his strength of will to resist that seductive call, he reminded himself. It wasn't his fault that his friend's strength of will had been much less than his, and it was certainly not his fault that Malak had chosen to let that darkness corrupt him so deeply. Revan found it fascinating though, how well Malak hid it. He found it amazing how the glimpses he caught of what now grew inside of his one-time best friend disturbed him so because he never saw them coming. Malak, Revan had come to realize, was a true master of the art of deception, self-inflicted and otherwise.

He believed that Malak didn't even understand the depths of his depravity – but then again, he mused, after being exposed to immorality and evil for so long, Revan was sure _he_ didn't understand the depths of his _own_ depravity either. Still…there were things he would not do, lines and boundaries he would not cross; lines and boundaries Malak had plunged well beyond. There were certain kinds of evil, Revan had come to think. He was one kind, Malak was another. Neither was good, but could it be possible to say one was better than the other? Closer to "right" than its counterpart?

Returning his wandering thoughts to the present, Revan placed a hand on his apprentice's shoulder with a firm grip. "I'm here, Malak," he said with a cool voice. There was something…almost calming about Malak's helplessness. It allowed Revan, just for these few moments, to relax; to cease worrying about his apprentice's level of threat.

Malak's head hurt. Who was here? It was that same voice…but who? "Revan", perhaps? Why was that name so familiar to him?

The doctor, the same one who had been with him for years, the same one who had saved his life on Rhen Var, slid closer to Revan and spoke quietly into his ear. "The drugs we have him on will likely make him very…unstable."

Revan nodded and let his hand slide away from his apprentice's shoulder, watching the large man shift on the small bed he occupied as the doctor administered a painkiller through an IV line. Seeing Malak like this reminded him that most men were strong on the surface, but it was the rare one that retained that strength all the way through to his core. How long had it been since he was last truly scared, Revan wondered. How long had it been since he had truly feared – anything, everything, death, life, another human, himself? Revan remembered the last time he had felt that mind numbing, bone-chilling, paralyzing terror grip his insides and knot them until they couldn't be undone. He remembered all too well.

Malachor V. Trayus Academy. The evil he had seen there.

But it was strange, he reflected, the evil. It was not what one might initially think to be evil. It seemed benign, rather ordinary upon first glance. But it was the digging, his curiosity – and interestingly enough, his fear – that had driven him to look beneath the surface, that had allowed him to find the true malevolence within. And that had somehow tainted him; it had crawled beneath his skin and settled into his soul where nothing could ever remove the stain.

And he knew that it somehow made him both better and worse than anything Malak could ever achieve, because Malak had never seen it. Malak had never touched it, never felt it suck the life from his body, never felt it try to rip his soul out from his very being, never felt it force its way inside of him and change him…

That was, perhaps, why he was so baffled with Bastila and her insistence that he was not the evil man everyone thought him to be. He _was_. He was much, much worse than they realized. They had just never seen it, and he had never let it out. That part of himself, he kept firmly locked away. That part of himself, he never dared to let see the light. Because if it did, it would consume all the light until nothing was left but darkness. And what would she do if she glimpsed that part of him? Flee from him, as everyone else did when they got too close? There was a reason Revan isolated himself from humans as much as possible, a reason he had no friends, no true lovers, no real confidants of any kind. Bad things happened to those who became too entangled with him, and that was something he had never wanted. The death of his medical examiner, one of his "friends", was a perfect example.

Had he asked for that snowstorm? For that destruction? For her death? For the sorrow that he had to lay upon her husband, and her son? No – never. But it was his burden, because of everything he had seen, and everything he had been through. Death followed him like a stray dog that had been fed scraps once and now hoped for more. Misery mixed with his shadow and touched all those whom it fell upon. If there was one thing Revan knew he could do without fail, it was that he could cause pain. Intentionally or unintentionally, it did not matter – it never failed.

And Force if he wasn't sick to the very core with it all.

There were mornings he gave serious thought to why his blaster had misfired when he had tried to shoot himself. He wondered what cruel Fate was laughing at his misery and suffering, his complete loneliness of heart and mind, the absence of affection and love that never ceased aching within him. He had loved once, and it had been taken from him – or more correctly, it had left him and vanished completely. But the vanishing had been his fault; the leaving…that was all hers though, no matter how he looked at it. What he wouldn't give to feel that love again, even for a brief moment.

But Revan dared not wish for it; he might actually get what he wanted. And he was not strong enough for that.


	10. Chapter 10

Okay, I apologize immensely for the huge wait, but as usual, my excuse is school. It's kicking my ass right now...royally. Add to that receiving a nearly dislocated finger and a concussion in this last basketball tournament, and I'm doing good to post this damned chapter.

Anyway, it's longer b/c of the long wait, and I hope you enjoy it. Feedback is pretty much demanded, b/c I love hearing how amazing I am. :P Seriously though, feedback works wonders on helping me see what's working and what isn't. Opinions - good. Stupid, pointless criticisms about minute details that don't matter to the entirety of the story - bad.

EM - In Star Wars time, last I checked, a week is five days, not our seven days. Thank you for editing my chapter, even though you're busy as eff too. Couldn't do this withoucha mate!

Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

**(8 days later)**

"Sir?"

Darth Revan turned to stare at the man who had spoken, no emotion visible on his masked face. "What is it?"

"Well sir…it seems that we've had reports of an unusually high number of Tusken Raider attacks," the young officer who was standing before him replied.

"We're having problems on Tatooine?"

"With the Sand People, yes sir."

"And Czerka can't take care of it?" the Dark Lord asked irritably. What did he pay those damn people for? Bunch of lazy, greedy bastards the lot of them.

"It appears they're unable to find anyone to take on the job of dealing with the Sand People. Everyone who's volunteered has gone missing, or has turned up very…" the officer trailed and shrugged, handing Revan a data pad with a photo on it. The Dark Lord glanced down at it and grunted at the sight; seeing mutilated bodies was nothing new, but the Sand People had a certain…_flair_ for it. He stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking of how best to deal with this annoyance. He needed someone experienced, someone who wouldn't lose their head – figuratively or literally – when things got as nasty as Revan knew they would. These were Sand People: things _always_ got nasty.

"Contact Sante Wulfe. Tell him to report directly to me on this bridge."

"Yes sir," the officer replied with a deferential bow as he hurried away to complete his task. Revan watched him go, already losing himself in his own thoughts again amid the monotonous din of his ship's bridge.

Reports of attacks on settlers and workers were nothing if not expected because of the Sand People, but Revan had never seen a body as badly mauled as the one he had just been shown. What would anger the Sand People so greatly that they would go to such violent lengths? He had dealt with them before – they were an easily provoked people, incredibly dangerous but not brutishly backwards. As a nomadic culture they were definitely more primitive, but as a functioning society they worked with incalculable intricacies just like any other species or race; they were just as complex.

Revan's first thoughts were that the Czerka workers had somehow breached the Sand People's boundaries, and had provoked the natives in that way. But that had happened before with much lesser consequences, and didn't seem to fit the violence that was now coming forth from the nomadic tribes. So what could it possibly be?

"You sent for me, Lord Revan," Sante's weathered voice said, breaking into the much younger man's thoughts.

"Ah, yes, I did," Revan answered as he turned to face one of his most loyal soldiers. "I have an important job for you – a very delicate one. It needs to be handled with extreme care, and you are the only person I have faith in to do it correctly."

"My services are at your disposal, my lord," Sante spoke, hearing the serious tone in the Dark Lord's voice.

"Good." Revan handed Sante the data pad with the picture of the mutilated corpse. "This is happening on Tatooine. Sand People are attacking our personnel, few as they are, as well as Czerka employees." He paused very briefly. "Now before you ask – yes, attacks are very common, but not at this high of a number, nor at this level of violence. I need you to find out why these murders are taking place, why the Sand People are suddenly acting out so violently. And I need you to do it without provoking them further. Tatooine is a very delicate operation; keeping people on that planet is difficult enough. I want you to deal with this as swiftly as possible, and if anything, present the air that this is a minor annoyance and will be of no trouble for us to deal with. Understood?" the Dark Lord finished, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Of course sir. Keep to myself for the most part; investigate the goings-on of the planet. When would you like me to deploy?" the soldier asked, his tone all business.

Revan shifted his eyes' focus to the HUD inside of his mask and glanced at the clock in a corner of the display. "In two hours. Your ship will be prepped by then. Everything you need will be inside it. Don't wear your armor – the sight of a Sith soldier will likely make the inhabitants highly uneasy, and the Sand People would kill you on sight," the younger man advised.

Sante said nothing, only nodded once in affirmative as he spun on his heel and walked off at a brisk pace.

* * *

Bastila stared at the holo-disc on her desk for the seventh day in a row, wondering if she should play it back one more time. She simply couldn't fathom what Revan had allowed her to see – about him, about the Mandalorian Wars…about what it took to be the leader that Revan was during that conflict. He had been right, she had admitted immediately upon finishing her first run-through of the holo-disc for the day: there was no way she could last a week in his position. There was simply no way she could withstand that kind of pressure and responsibility of knowing that millions of lives were at her fingertips daily.

"How does one make such decisions? How do they do it without going insane?" the female Jedi asked herself softly. With a determined frown, Bastila got up from her chair, snatched the holo-disc from the surface of the desk and slid it into a specified slot for it to play. This would be somewhere around the tenth time she had watched this holo-vid, but it didn't ever seem to get old. She was lost in the projected image as soon as it appeared. The young man slumped into a chair and simply laid his head down on his desk for a long moment, the barely perceptible rise and fall of his breathing the only thing to indicate life within him. With a sigh, he lifted his face; it was a young countenance, but his eyes, those hollow eyes, seemed to Bastila to be hundreds of years old. Interesting that they didn't seem so old now, just…cold.

"_I…I don't even know where to start. So many died today…so many because of me. Because of my order. Because I decided they were worth sacrificing – worth disposing of. That their deaths served a greater purpose."_ He snorted. _"If anyone is seeing and hearing this, they're probably wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Let me begin…no. Let me beg. Let me beg for forgiveness. But I'm getting ahead of myself. You're still wondering what I'm rambling on about. I suppose then I will have to begin; start at the very conception of it all."_ He sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. _"At some point during this war – I'm not even sure when anymore – we discovered that there was one place in the galaxy that the Mandalorians wouldn't go – Malachor V. I proposed to push them to that very place and my men agreed, and so we began driving them to Malachor V. I…I went ahead, on my own, to scout out the planet. I wanted to see if it would be a suitable military base." _

His voice trembled, and he dropped his head, running his hands over his hair and locking them at the base of his skull. _"I never should've gone down to the surface. I know now why the Mandalorians won't set foot there, why it's considered a taboo planet. I don't blame them. No one should go there. Not unless they're prepared – and I don't think anyone could be prepared for what's down there."_ He shook his head as if saying "to get back to the point," and looked up again. _"Literally the moment I stepped onto the surface, I felt this…this _pull _in my gut, towards…the center of the planet, I assume. It was…an almost sickening feeling, the pull. Like I was nauseated, almost on the verge of throwing up, and it only got worse as I moved closer to the source of the sensation. It led me – I didn't know where I was going, but I followed it; I found myself at the steps of an old stone building that looked very similar to some kind of training academy, or military training school of some kind." _

He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head again. _"I went inside, because the nausea and the pull were very strong at this point. I hoped that maybe I could find whatever it was that was tugging at me and making me feel so awful and shut it off. Instead…I found…" _He shuddered, and stopped for a good while. When he looked up again, it was with a sad, almost dead smile. _"It would do no good to describe to you what I saw. Or what I felt. Or how I wanted to die. How I wished that I could gouge my eyes out, just to get the images I was seeing out of my head. You wouldn't be able to comprehend the agony of having your soul forcibly torn from your body, infected, and then replaced. But I learned so much then…and sacrificed so much of myself to do so. I'm not the same man I was; that experience changed me. My very core is different – tainted and stained by what happened down there."_

A rumbling sound came through, and he glanced around. _"Explosions,"_ he murmured, unaffected. _"It was as I was leaving that accursed place that the idea struck me; the solution to the Mandalorian problem. My ship had to struggle at full thrust to break the gravity of Malachor V, and even when I broke through, it was as if a tractor beam had locked on to my ship. If I shut off the engines and let myself drift, I was slowly pulled back into orbiting the planet. I spoke to one of the best technicians we have, Bao-Dur, about this and voiced to him that I wanted some way to use the gravitational pull of Malachor V against the Mandalorians. He told me that it would take some time, but that he could build a device that would super-amplify the gravitational strength of the planet, pulling all ships nearby into a crushing hole of inescapable force. A controllable black hole, in simplest terms."_

He smiled now, and the smile seemed tinged with malevolence. _"I told him that was absolutely perfect. The Mass Shadow Generator, he called it. I instructed him from the very beginning to keep it as much of a secret as he could – I had bigger plans for this device than just the Mandalorians, you see. After my visit to Malachor's surface, my…views on things changed. I saw that the Mandalorians were only the tip of the iceberg – I had seen the impetus for their invasion, and I knew that in order to keep the Republic safe, I would eventually have to take on that impetus and destroy it. If I didn't, it would keep prompting other races to attack, and then, perhaps one day attack on its own."_

Shifting, he leaned forward on his elbows. _"I knew what I had to do, and I knew that only my most loyal soldiers would embark on the journey with me. So, in order to make sure that only they would accompany me, I needed to…purge of impurities, so to speak. Thankfully, the Mass Shadow Generator gave me the perfect solution to that as well. If it could create an event horizon for the Mandalorian ships, then why not for other ships? Why not any ship within a certain vicinity? I needed only my most loyal soldiers, and I needed to get rid of the rest. If I could position them on ships that would be within this event horizon, then I could rid myself of any potential traitors in one stroke. A…brutish decision, but a calculated one as well. I understood the implications of it – murder on a massive scale, among other things – and I was ready to accept that. Playing God is not easy…morality falls away when questions of the greater good come into play, and you're forced to go against everything you believe in to save the lives of billions – save the lives of billions by sacrificing the lives of a few million. Numbers. Just numbers. You tell yourself that as you try to sleep at night."_

Another rumble cut into his talk, and he glanced around again, gripping the desk for a moment to keep balance. His voice was thick now, his eyes grave and painfully sad. _"So you see? You see now why I beg for your forgiveness? For killing all those people? For murdering them when they trusted me? I deceived them. Murdered them in the dark. I never wanted to. I never wanted to make that decision. Never wanted to carry it out. But please believe me when I say that I only did it to save you, to save all of you from a fate worse than death. I know you won't understand now, and perhaps you never will – that is the sacrifice I am making. I am becoming your greatest enemy to save you. You will hate me. You will try to kill me. You will think me evil, a monster. I understand that, and I accept that. If it means that my actions will keep you safe in the long run, then it is worth it. If it saves you, then I have done my job. I am just damning myself in the process." _

A dark grin spread across his face. _"A wise man once said, 'Society closes its doors, without pity, on two classes of men: those who attack it and those who guard it.' It's sad how right he was."_

And that was where the holo-vid shut off. Bastila sat there again, for the tenth time, staring at the spot where the image had just been. "How did you do it, Revan?" she asked softly, sitting back in her chair and covering her eyes with a hand. Bastila had not seen Revan for nearly six days now, and the times that she had seen him had only been in passing – never enough to stop him and ask him about the holo-disc.

The myriad of emotions that Revan's speech made her feel baffled her. She was utterly horrified and repulsed by the knowledge that he had willingly murdered hundreds of thousands of his own soldiers, but at the same time, the logic he presented seemed to absolve him of his actions. That was the problem – she knew what Revan did was wrong, but he made it _sound_ so very right. He was able to argue for everything he did, and that was disconcerting to her.

And the pain she felt in his words…it ran so deep. Bastila had never known that something had happened to him on Malachor V.

"_You wouldn't be able to comprehend the agony of having your soul forcibly torn from your body, infected, and then replaced."_

What had happened to him to make him say that? To talk about it like that? Bastila had concluded that it must've been something truly awful. Revan was a strong man, and though Bastila did not know him _that _well, she hazarded a guess that only something severely traumatizing could make such deep agony run through his words. She wanted to find him and ask him, but she knew that the information she had at the moment was likely the only information she was going to get for a while. It was unlike Revan to simply hand her a glimpse of himself like he had just done, and though she knew why he had done it, it had still been shocking to realize the depth of himself that he had just opened up to her.

He was just so…complicated. So enigmatic. He had so many layers, so many walls and locks to protect himself. Bastila was determined that she was not going to stop digging until she uncovered him, the him that was at the very core of everything. She wanted to know why he kept it all hidden, even in private. Was he afraid of himself?

She sighed and stood, feeling restless. She needed to move, to do something physical. Going to her closet, she rummaged through the clothing and came up with a relatively loose outfit that seemed appropriate for what she needed. Slipping it on, Bastila paused for a moment. Did she really want to go somewhere in this ship alone? Frowning at that thought, she berated herself. Of course she wanted to go somewhere on this ship – she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and working out would do her some good. Taking the vibroblade Revan had given her on Rhen Var in her hand, Bastila stepped out into a corridor of the ship and began her search for a training room.

* * *

Sante squinted as the bright light from Tatooine's suns blinded him for a moment. Grunting, he shielded his eyes with his hand and glanced around, his slate-grey gaze taking in the sandy, weather-beaten settlement of Anchorhead.

"I hate sand," the soldier muttered as a wall of the small particles buffeted him, scraping against his skin and getting into his eyes. It didn't help that Tatooine was so damn windy…

Taking another few moments to get his bearings, Sante wondered just exactly which blaster-bolt scored door held what. A man was working on a speeder outside of one of these buildings, and the soldier decided he was as good of a place to start as any.

"Excuse me, sir?" he asked very politely as he came up behind the man. A few seconds passed before the mechanic was able to work himself out of the position he had been in before. He sat up on the sandy ground, blinked a few times, then gave Sante a once-over, as if sizing him up.

Apparently satisfied, he stood, brushed off his pants and offered Sante his hand. "Yes sir, what can I do for you?"

The soldier shook it, grateful for the man's easygoing manner. "I was just wondering where I might find a good map of this settlement. I just landed, and I've never been here before. I don't want to be wandering aimlessly, or go somewhere I shouldn't."

The mechanic grinned. "Smart man. Here…" He took the data pad that Sante was holding, hooked it up to another one, pressed a button, and waited for a few seconds. He smiled as he handed the data pad back to Sante. "There ya go. Map of Anchorhead, and as much of this damnable desert as we can get. But unless you've got a license, which I doubt you have, you won't be going out there. Still, doesn't hurt to have it."

The soldier made a mental note of that information. "Thank you," he said with a short nod of his head.

"Yah, no problem. Just don't go gettin' yourself killed," the mechanic replied, waving a rag-holding hand at Sante as he slipped back under his speeder.

The Sith soldier checked the map he had just been given, and saw that the closest thing to his current position was the office of Czerka Corporation. "How fortuitous…" he muttered under his breath. Sante understood that Revan had been forced to make a deal with Czerka in order to keep supplies within easy reach, but that didn't mean he had to like the sleazy bastards that worked for the galaxy-wide coporation. Sighing, he made his way to the scarred door that was identical to all the rest and stepped inside, recognizing the uniforms of the Czerka employees immediately. A woman approached him, but before she could speak – she had a haughty look Sante didn't like – he cut her off.

"You the supervisor here?" he demanded.

The woman looked a bit taken aback. "Yes, I am. And you are?" she asked with obvious distaste.

Sante reached across himself, flipped up an arm patch and revealed to her the Sith symbol. "I'm Lord Revan's man. I'm here to fix your problem."

She blanched a bit and nodded. "Of course, my apologies. This is for you, then." She handed him a leather packet. "A hunting license, for appearance's sake. So the locals think you're just another hunter."

"Perfect. I'll let you know if I need anything else."

Sante didn't give the woman time to respond – he just wanted to get out of there. Entering the oppressively hot Tatooine atmosphere once more, he checked his map. He didn't need to pay the hunting offices a visit, because he wasn't going to hunt. Not their kind of prey, at least. The droid shop was useless to him. Then his eyes fell on the cantina. Now that was a place one could always get information. Setting that as his next destination, Sante walked at his usual fast pace towards the other end of Anchorhead, weaving his way through sparse throngs of people. As he neared the cantina, he saw a haggard looking Duros and met his eyes.

_**Bad idea,**_ his mind said to him as the Duros began to walk directly towards him. He tensed in preparation for some kind of fight.

"_You humans are crazy! Stay away from that cantina, if you know what's good for you!"_ the Duros told him rather loudly.

"Stay away from the cantina?" Sante asked, though his question went unheard as the alien continued to ramble. Raising his eyebrows and shaking his head, he continued along his path to the cantina, frowning as he saw that this door was, somehow, more score-marked than the others. Ducking inside and pausing a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim, smoky lighting, the soldier surveyed the room. No one seemed to be on the verge of a drunken brawl; in fact, it was rather subdued for a cantina. There was one human woman in the far corner to his slight right. She looked up as he came in, and he saw that her eyes looked remarkably familiar.

_**Who does she remind me of?**_ Sante wondered to himself. He never ignored things like that, nagging feelings – they always meant something important. The frown that painted her face was also eerily recognizable, but he still couldn't put a finger on it. Resolving to think on it over a drink, Sante took a seat at the bar, ordered his drink, and waited. He almost jumped as he turned his head to look in the woman's direction again – she was right beside him, and hadn't made a single sound. Perhaps she had, but he had been too lost in thought to notice.

"Excuse me; I'm sorry to bother you sir, but I've never seen you around here before," she said, her voice accented and laced with a quiet authority. That nagging feeling came back to Sante, and he wished desperately that he could place who this woman reminded him of.

"Just got in," he replied conversationally. "Never been here before, to be honest."

"Do you travel much?" she asked, sliding into the seat next to him on the bar.

"I get around on my own time, yeah. I've seen a good deal of this galaxy, even with the war going on."

The woman's eyes, a shade of light, bluish grey, lit up. "This will seem like a far-fetched question to you, but I'm in dire need of an answer. I hope you don't mind?"

Sante shook his head, perfectly willing to indulge her. She seemed nice enough to him. _**Too frail to be an assassin; too honest. She doesn't have the air of a killer.**_ "No, not at all. If I can help, I will."

She pulled out a data pad and placed it on the bar, sliding it in front of his face. "I was hoping that maybe you had seen this girl, or perhaps heard anything about her?"

Sante felt the world fall out beneath him as he gazed down at the picture. "That's…that's the missing Jedi on the news," he stammered. "What do you want with her?"

The woman looked earnestly into Sante's shocked face. "She's my daughter."

* * *

**(2 days later)**

"She's _what?_" Revan exclaimed, whirling to face the view screen again.

Sante looked just as surprised as his Dark Lord. "Sir, I'm just telling you what she told me. She said that her name is Helena Shan, and that she is Bastila Shan's mother. She's searching for her daughter."

Revan paced around the room, his hand shoved in his hair in disbelief. "Of all the places I send you, you run into my Jedi prisoner's mother on Tatooine!" he snapped, letting out a harsh sigh. "Why does she need to see Bastila?" he demanded.

"She says that she has news for her, and that she is very sick. She wants to see her daughter before she dies," the soldier reported.

"Did she look sick to you?"

"Well sir…honestly…yes, she did. She looked far too thin and fragile for a woman living on Tatooine. And her eyes looked tired. Defeated. I don't think she was lying to me sir, I really don't."

Revan groaned and sunk into a chair, going silent while he thought for a while. "So what do you think we should do, Sante? I've always trusted your judgement – what's the best course of action here?"

Sante sighed and rubbed his short-cropped hair. "I think you should take Bastila to see her mother, Revan," he said quietly. Revan looked up from his spot on the chair, his eyes questioning. "It won't do anyone any harm," Sante explained gently. "Helena will get to see her daughter, tell her what she needs to tell her, and then die in peace. Bastila will see it as an example of your good will. It won't take more than a few hours. We can all spare that."

Revan's smile was very amused and tinged with irony. "Some Sith we are, organizing family reunions."

"Even Sith have families, sir."

Revan nodded. "As always, you are my voice of reason. Tell Helena that her daughter is not dead. Tell her that the man Bastila's with will be glad to bring her. Don't tell her that Bastila is a prisoner."

"Understood."

"I'll be there within the next two days."

"Yes sir. Sante out."

Revan sat back and stroked his goatee, thinking over what had just happened. He had only consented to bringing Bastila down to Tatooine because Sante had told him that the Sand People situation wasn't going to be solved easily. After three days of digging, the soldier was only able to come up with the fact that – according to rumor only – Czerka had done something to anger the native tribes. Everyone else who might know anything was dead or missing. So, as usual, Revan was forced to do it himself. This matter was of particular importance to him as well not because of Tatooine's military value or strategic position, but because of what secret the planet held. If any Republic personnel were to find the Star Map that was housed in a cave in Tatooine's Dune Sea, it is possible that they could learn the secret of Revan's empire. Revan needed to protect that secret, and thus needed as little attention as possible drawn to Tatooine – and the news of the increasing attacks on settlers and hunters by the Sand People was already widely circulating among the news holo-channels.

He sighed and stood, preparing himself for what he was about to do. Bastila needed to be told she was about to meet her mother for the first time in nearly two decades, and he only wondered at what reaction that might elicit. Knocking lightly on the door that connected their rooms, he waited, but received no response. Listening closely, he heard the sound of running water and surmised that Bastila was showering. He let himself into her room silently and looked around for a moment, finding that the room looked barely lived in – the only hint of presence was a few scattered articles of clothing, some data pads he assumed were books, and the mussed bed linens. Seating himself in a darkened corner out of habit, his aura suppressed both consciously and subconsciously, his mind flashed back to when she had been beneath him on his bed two weeks ago. It might have taken an incredible amount of self-control to pull himself off of her, had she not made him angry just then.

He noticed the holo-disc in the play slot of Bastila's desk and smiled a bit darkly. He wasn't sure why he had given her that exact holo-disc; it showed what awful decision he had made during the Mandalorian Wars, yes, but it was also rather…personal. The water had shut off, and Revan stared at the floor, waiting for Bastila to appear. When she did, she was clad only in a towel, and a rather short one at that. Revan allowed his eyes to rove over as much of her body as they could – drink her in and savor her.

Her dark hair was wet and clung to her face and neck, making his fingers itch to brush it away. Her slender legs were very nearly all exposed to him, and Revan saw for the first time that they were appealingly toned in their lithe musculature; slim, but powerful. The towel sat low on her breasts, giving the Dark Lord a generous view of her cleavage. He noticed that her arms, like her legs, were slim but defined; she had very nice arms with just enough tone in them to be sexy. Revan took in the aura of feminine grace that seemed to hover around her as she moved around, unaware of his presence. Being a voyeur like this was a bit new to him, but he decided that he liked it; besides, it wouldn't have mattered if Bastila had known he was there or not – in that towel, she excited him either way.

She moved to one side of the bed and picked up a loose, long-sleeve shirt. Slipping it over her head, Revan watched as she loosed the towel and bent over at the same time. It slipped halfway down her back and then caught, shielding anything of interest from Revan's gaze. She pulled on underwear and finally let the towel fall to the floor, allowing Dark Lord to see every centimeter of her slender legs. He tried not to shift as he felt a familiar warmth spreading through his body and a growing redirection of blood somewhere other than his brain. She was so beautiful and so perfect…it was killing him to have her within arm's reach, and not able to do a damn thing about it. She leaned over to pick up the towel, and Revan gritted his teeth together in an effort not to let out a rough breath; he was being given a most wonderful view of her firm bottom, and the underwear she was wearing was pulling rather…tightly about other things as well. A dull ache now throbbed in his groin mercilessly, informing him of a burning need that he could not sate in the way he wanted.

Bastila slipped on a relatively loose pair of pants, and Revan was almost grateful her inadvertent teasing was over. As she turned around to return the towel to the refresher, Revan used the Force to bend the light around himself and render his form invisible to her. For some reason, he didn't want her to know he had just been watching her. Pausing a moment after she had disappeared through the door, he let his temporary invisibility drop and stood, backing towards the door silently. He pressed the panel to open the door, and watched her turn as it whooshed open.

"Revan," she said, her accented voice hinting at surprise. "To what do I owe this visit?"

He noted the barely perceptible aloofness to her tone, and wondered why she was addressing him that way. "I came to…" he trailed, forgetting what he had been here for. The towel incident had muddled his thoughts. "Ah, yes, my apologies – I am a bit distracted: I came to tell you something." Revan paused again, knowing that if he related this in a cold manner, she would be angry with him. Allowing his Dark Lord façade to drop, he gazed at her with a bit of hesitancy.

Bastila noted this and was apprehensive of what he was going to say. Those eyes of his were no longer closed off – he was simply Revan now, not the Sith Lord. "What is it?" she asked slowly, taking a few steps inside of her room; he could see the way her eyes shone with a guarded light.

"You might want to sit down," he advised. "I'm not sure how well this will go over." He moved closer to her and took a seat, motioning for her to do the same. Bastila warily took a seat next to him, her gaze never leaving his face. Was he trying to do this for effect? Because it was working…

"What is it?" she repeated, more firmly this time.

"You are coming with me down to Tatooine," he told her, pausing again.

"That's it? That's all you wanted to tell me?" she asked incredulously, making to stand.

"You're going to see your mother."

Bastila's legs gave out and she collapsed back to the seat. "What?" she managed, her voice weak. His face was serious – there was no farce in his features.

"Your mother is on Tatooine. She wishes to see you, and I am taking you to her."

Bastila's eyes turned hard. "Did it ever occur to you that I might not _want_ to see my mother?"

Revan blinked calmly. "Yes, it did. But I think you should see her, regardless of desire to or not. What she has to tell you is important."

"Oh, is that so?" Bastila demanded angrily. "Well perhaps I should let you make all of my decisions for me Revan! Hm? I think that would be best, don't you?"

He looked at the floor, stung slightly by her scathing sarcasm. "I had hoped that I wouldn't have to tell you this…"

"Oh just spit it out already!" she snapped, crossing her arms and slamming her back against the padded upholstery of the chair, glaring at him. The _gall_ of this man!

"She's dying."

Bastila's anger dissipated immediately, a hollow fear replacing it. "What?" she asked for the second time this conversation. He noticed her voice trembled.

"Your mother is dying, Bastila. She wants to see you before she passes," Revan said gravely, meeting her eyes and trying to give her some measure of comfort.

Her face showed incomprehension. "She's…no…she's lying!" Revan was surprised at the desperate, almost angry tone to her voice. "She's just trying to get me down there so she can leech me for credits! It's all she did to my father, and now she's trying to do the same to me!" Bastila stood and looked down at Revan, her face resolute. "You can take me to her. I will see her – but she won't get anything from me, no matter what story she weaves."

The Dark Lord stood and simply nodded. "We leave tomorrow morning. Pack whatever you think will be necessary."

As Revan left, he glanced back at the female Jedi. She was standing there, staring blankly at the floor, unmoving. He wondered what it was that kept Bastila from wanting to see her own mother, and so very adamantly at that. She had mentioned something about her mother sucking her father dry for credits…was that why she disliked her mother so? She saw her as nothing but a money-hungry parasite? Revan didn't know. His thoughts shifted to his own parents, and he frowned. He had so little memory of them – no real memory, in fact, of anything except a small bit of his mother. His mouth twitched into a brief smile at the thought of his mother; from what he could remember, she was a sweet, strong woman who had a compassionate heart. As his thoughts slid to his father, however, his smile disappeared. He had never known his father, and his mother had never really spoken of him, as far as he could remember. Still…he got a sense of foreboding when thinking about his father.

Even so, Revan knew that if he could meet both of his parents, he would take the opportunity to do so. Parents were supposed to be the ones who loved you no matter what…and Revan would've killed for stability such as that. He would've given up everything to have a place that was always safe to go to, where he would always be welcomed – but then, he reasoned, what need did he have of that now? Of what good could that kind of warmth, that kind of love do him? Nothing, except make him weak, and he could not afford weaknesses. Still…a part of him longed for it, no matter the cost.

Revan sighed as he stepped into his closet and began to pack desert-gear for the trip down to Tatooine, thinking about how much his life had changed since Bastila had become a part of it. A few months ago, he would've thought nothing of having a woman as company for a few hours of the night – now, thoughts of the young Jedi filled his mind, and he hadn't had a guest in weeks…though that was about to change tonight. It was as if…as if he felt her, constantly, like she was with him at all times. Alone, among a crowd, it didn't matter – he felt her in the same way he felt the armor that encased him: palpably, a constant on his skin; or, in her case, beneath it.

Satisfied with the gear he had packed into his duffel bag, Revan returned to his room, and deposited the nicer, long-sleeved shirt he was wearing over a chair, leaving him clad in a black beater – a sleeveless undershirt with narrow shoulder straps and slightly ribbed material. It was generally what he wore when about to do mechanic work, and now was no different. The beaten and battered form of HK-47 stood in a bit of a heap in the center of his room, a tarp spread out beneath the droid to prevent dirt and oil from soiling the carpet below. The black cargo pants he was wearing, if they could have, would have shown the numerous oil stains and dirt smudges that had never washed out, and the lusterless black boots he was wearing were comfortably worn in.

Popping open a tool box, Revan squatted and inspected his droid, sighing at the sight of frayed wires, cracked panels, and destroyed circuits. The ice storm had not shown mercy on HK, and it had taken a good amount of digging to find the droid once more by the salvage team that had been sent to Rhen Var's surface the next morning. Unfortunately, Revan had had little time to even look at HK until now, and he needed the droid up and functioning perfectly by tomorrow for their trip to Tatooine. He had, however, been ordering all the parts he needed throughout the week, and they sat, ready, against a wall of his room. Now all that remained was the actual repairs. Selecting a hydrospanner from the tool box, Revan popped open a panel and covered his eyes as it sparked. Sighing, he grabbed a pair of protective goggles and put them on, trying one more time at the panel. Some more sparks were sent flying, singing a few spots on his hands and forearms; his face was impassive as he dealt with the minimal pain of the small burns. Selecting the proper tools, Revan set to work mending this circuit panel, time, stress, life slipping away from his notice as he lost himself in the intricate repairs.

Usually very alert to her presence, Revan did not notice when Bastila stole inside of his room and stood against a wall, watching him. Having a miniature plasma torch in his hand, he was also temporarily blinded, despite the protective facemask he had slipped on; thus, when he noticed her feet in the periphery of his vision, he wasn't exactly sure what it was he was seeing. Blinking slowly in an effort to let his sight clear, the Sith Lord gazed up at his Jedi prisoner with a curious look on his face.

"Yes?" he asked, wondering why she had come in his room at all.

Bastila seemed to look at him for the first time, and she blinked roughly. "What is that?" she responded, directing her gaze back to the copperish droid. It looked incredibly familiar, but without many of its parts and pieces of armor, she couldn't place where she had seen this droid before.

"This? This is Hunter-Killer droid number 47, or simply HK-47. I designed him myself. He was with us on Rhen Var."

She recognized the piece of machinery now - Revan's droid that had helped them locate the beast on Rhen Var. "Hunter-Killer droid?" Bastila asked, looking down at the kneeling Sith Lord once more.

"He is well versed in assassination protocols – he was built for deep space assassination missions," Revan explained while fiddling with a stubborn bolt.

"Deep space assassination missions…just who were you planning to get rid of?" the female Jedi asked a bit hesitantly.

"Anyone who stood in my way," the man replied, his tone cool. Revan stood and wiped his greasy hands on a rag, tossing it to the tarp-covered ground. Bastila realized just how large the droid really was when Revan stood – she knew that he was at least over six feet tall, and this HK droid towered over him still.

"How large is that thing?"

Revan glanced at the droid. "About eight feet. His appearance is conducive to fear: tall, imposing, slightly humanoid in appearance, glowing red eyes – it all serves to make him that much more frightening when in pursuit of a mark."

He tossed the mini plasma torch down to the ground, retrieved a new armor plate, and returned to the droid's inanimate form. He held it up to HK's breastplate area and frowned; it didn't fit quite right. Retrieving a mallet and another piece of metal that Bastila could not identify, Revan set to work pounding the armor into submission while his room's other occupant watched in rapt attention. Perhaps it was the way each of his movements was smooth, attesting to his mastery of this skill, or perhaps it was the way each of the muscles in his powerful arms jumped and tensed as he worked, the thick sinews dancing beneath his skin; Bastila was fascinated with the way he seemed to know just where to hit the metal, how much force to hit it with, and exactly where to place the shaping tool in relation to his hammer strike to get the indentation he wanted.

"You look like you know what you're doing," she commented when he paused to survey his work and hold the molded breastplate up to HK's form.

Revan glanced up as if he had forgotten she was even there, and looked down at the breastplate for a moment. "When you build the droid with your own hands, and perform all of his repairs, you get a good idea of what works and what doesn't," he replied, picking up a welding torch and taking it and the armor to a workbench.

Bastila raised an eyebrow. "His?"

Revan didn't turn around. "Do you honestly think I would build a droid with a female personality?"

"Hm, no, I suppose not."

He glanced at her as he returned to HK and fitted the breastplate on. She seemed subdued, and he wondered why she was in here in the first place. Checking the time, he returned his attention to her. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Bastila gave him a pointed look, raised eyebrows and all. "Do you honestly think I can sleep with this racket going on?" she asked, mimicking his earlier question.

"Hm, no, I suppose not," he replied, using her exact words. "But you should be happy to know that I'm done," he finished, flicking the minuscule switch to active HK.

His eyes blazed to life with an eerie red glow, and he immediately straightened to his full height of just over eight feet. "Statement: HK-47 at your service, Master." He paused. "Query: Was I damaged?"

"Yes, HK, you were damaged. The ice storm on Rhen Var completely fried quite a few of your circuit panels."

"Displeased statement: That planet was nothing short of deadly." HK's head turned smoothly to gaze down at Bastila, seemingly looking her over. "Query: You are Master's Jedi prisoner, are you not?"

The woman paused a moment before answering with some distaste. "Yes…I am Revan's 'prisoner'."

HK nodded and turned back to Revan. "Hesitant query: Master…I won't be subjected to the humiliation of having to take orders from her, will I?"

The Sith Lord laughed. "Actually, I think I might have to subject you to just that."

"Horrified statement: Master, no! She is a Jedi, _and_ your prisoner! Surely I am higher than that?" the droid seemed to beg with a disturbingly real humanity.

Bastila was indignant. "Higher than – !" but she was halted as Revan held up a hand and looked at the droid.

"Would you rather take orders from her, or Malak?"

HK responded immediately. "Oh her, Master, of course. Taking orders from that bald, pompous meatbag is…worse than being treated as a protocol droid."

"Meatbag?" Bastila asked, unsure if she had heard the droid right.

She heard Revan's chuckle as HK turned to her. "Clarification: Why, yes. You are an organic life form. Your body parts are squishy, and you are mostly water. The human body is akin to a sack of flesh. Would you rather me call you a liquid fleshbag?"

His chuckled turned into a deeply amused laugh at Bastila's grimace. "That was the censored version," he informed her.

"Censored version? Why must everything that is associated with you be so vile?" Bastila said with a disgusted eye-roll.

"Why must everything that is associated with you be so sickeningly self-righteous?" Revan demanded with a glare, his earlier humor vanished completely.

Bastila knew she had crossed some kind of line, but her anger had been roused by his insult. "You only perceive it as self-righteousness because you know I'm better than you," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and sending him an icy glare.

"Statement: Master, I may be out of line, but now would be an opportune time for violence."

Revan waved a hand in HK's direction and the droid fell silent, his glowing red eyes watching the scene unfold before him. The Dark Lord took a step towards Bastila, his body rigid.

"_You_ are better than _me_?" He gave a mirthless laugh. "Oh yes, how long did it take you to realize that? You could've said that before you even met me. But Bastila, you forget, there are different kinds of good, and different kinds of evil. Your kind of good is just as detrimental as my kind of evil, you just don't see it," he said, his deep voice dangerously low.

Bastila met his challenge, foolishly unafraid of him at the moment. "Explain to me how my kind of good does just as much damage as your order to obliterate half your fleet just to destroy the Mandalorians," she said, her voice cold, her eyes telling him she knew already she had won.

Revan felt his anger dissipate, a hollowness filling its place. "Get out," he told her quietly, turning back to his droid.

"Oh yes, that's mature. Don't answer my—"

"GET OUT!" he thundered, whirling on her, his eyes blazing, flickering red, his anger back in full. Bastila started in surprise and fear from the sheer volume his voice had reached and the fury that was palpable in it, backing away quickly. His disturbingly red eyes had sealed her fate; she knew that there was nothing she could do or say to salvage this situation. Swallowing and lowering her gaze, afraid to meet his, Bastila complied with his order and slipped gratefully back into her room, pressing her back against the wall and closing her eyes once she was safely inside.

She felt her anger at him coming back, for everything – for forcing her to see her mother, for capturing her, for thrusting her into something she could barely handle, for shaking her beliefs, _her_, to the very core…she hated him for it all. And yet…at the very same time, Bastila knew she did not hate this man; she could not hate him, for reasons that she simply could not surmise. Sighing in exasperation, she slid down the wall until she was resting on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest. She could hear through the wall that separated her from her captor and so Bastila half-listened to the sounds and voices that came through.

"Query: Master…she seemed to make you very angry. Why?" Bastila heard HK ask.

Revan sighed angrily and, she surmised from the sound, tossed a hydrospanner on the ground. "Being constantly insulted, even by someone who is supposed to be your enemy gets tiring. And no one, I don't care who they are, degrades your value. They'll be rethinking that when you take their knee out from 200 yards away with an Aratech sniper rifle," she heard him say, his voice gruff with frustration.

"Pleased statement: Why Master, your words…they are so very…"

"I built you with my bare hands! _I _built you! You are the epitome of perfection, I made sure of it! There is not a droid out there than can outmatch you!" Revan interrupted angrily. Bastila realized then why he was so irate – she had insulted something he had built, and something he loved. She felt a tendril of guilt for saying what she had upon realizing this.

"Affirmation: Master, you are correct in this statement. I must say that I am – aauugh! Master! What are you doing? Remove the arc wrench! Remove the arc wrench! Medic!" the droid suddenly exclaimed, and Bastila couldn't help but smile, even though she was intensely curious as to what Revan was doing.

"Oh shut up!" the Dark Lord snapped at his droid.

"Exclamation: But Master, that is a circuit! I need that! Please don't destroy my chips out of frustration."

"I'm not – I'm replacing it with a new one," Revan growled.

"Retraction: Well then I apologize, Master. Explanation: You just went about it so violently… While I appreciate violence as much as the next bloodthirsty assassin droid, my parts are delicate. Supplication: And you have such a horrible temper sometimes, Master… I fear for my circuits."

Bastila heard a rustle of clothing and assumed Revan was shifting. His deep voice filtered through the metal a few seconds later. "HK, you know that you can trust me implicitly with your repairs. Have I ever screwed them up?"

"Thoughtful answer: Why no, Master, to my memory, you have not," HK replied, truly sounding thoughtful.

"Exactly. Now listen. We're going to be arriving on Tatooine soon, and we'll be dealing with Sand People. Try not to blast anything, all right?"

"Query: Was that an order, or a suggestion, Master?"

Bastila could not see Revan's smile, but she was sure it was there. "Both," he replied slowly. She heard the sound of a door opening, and her brows furrowed. Who would bother him at this late of an –?

"Ah… yes. I seem to be a bit… dirty at the moment," Revan's amused, but now slightly cold voice said.

"Oh I'm sure I can clean you off," a female voice purred, and Bastila felt an inexplicable surge of jealousy and anger burn inside of her. _Bastard,_ she growled in her head, getting up quickly from the wall and throwing herself at her bed, burying her head beneath a pillow. She knew that she was now about to be subjected to the nausea-inducing noises of a two-credit whore – and that her curiosity was going to nag at her again as to why Revan never made any noise.

Was he simply just silent, even when immensely pleasured? Or was it his way of saying that they meant nothing? Bastila wondered if he didn't want her to hear him… or if it was some way of absolving himself from blame, as he wasn't the noisy one. She heard the shower come on in the refresher, and rolled her eyes. _Wonderful_. That was even closer to her than Revan's bed was. Her door suddenly slid open, and she let out a surprised cry as two glowing red eyes appeared, followed by the rusty red colored armor of HK-47.

"Bloody hell!" she snapped at the droid, her heart pounding.

He seemed to gain a curious expression, and affected it by cocking his head to the side exactly as Revan did. "Statement: I apologize if I scared you, Jedi. It, for once, was not my intention."

Bastila's glare was cold. "Yes, I am sure that's something new for you."

"Agreement: Yes, it is. And surprisingly not quite such a revolting feeling as I had feared. Query: How long have you been in the master's charge?" he asked. Bastila wondered why in the hell HK would want to make conversation, but she was grateful for any distraction from what was going on in the room next to her.

"How long? I…About two and a half months? Perhaps more. I realized early on that I wasn't going to be let go, and so I stopped counting the days," she replied bitterly.

"Query: What did the master say were his reasons for capturing you?"

"He wants me for my Battle Meditation."

"Statement: Battle Meditation… Hmm, yes, I have heard of such a thing. It is very rare skill. Query: You possess it?" HK asked.

Bastila nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Reluctant admission: I am impressed, Jedi. Statement: There are very few in history who had mastered the skill – perhaps you will go down in the annals as one who has."

Bastila's eyes narrowed. "You sound as if you like me now. I was under the impression you hated me."

HK sighed. "Clarification: No, Jedi, I am not allowed to hate _you_. You are in the master's charge, and he has given me specific orders to protect you at all costs. Addendum: I believe he has also modified me to make sure that any violent animosity I might hold against you cannot surface when I am interacting with you. Expletive: Dammit, Master – that is cruel."

Bastila smiled at that last statement, but her face became curious. "Why are you in here, talking to me? What possessed you to do that?"

HK glanced at her and then back at the door he had come through. "Explanation: Well, Jedi… as much as I am tempted to say I loathe being in your presence, I loathe –" A woman's moan interrupted his speech. "…_that_ even more," the droid finished with obvious disdain.

The female Jedi chuckled, though she was equally as irritated by it. "Well you won't be getting away from it much in here. You can hear everything, unfortunately," she grumbled.

The droid gave a brief laugh. "Amused statement: I'm sure that must be…utterly wonderful."

Bastila rolled her eyes. "The highlight of my existence."

HK gazed at her with his eerily glowing-red eyes. "Confession: I simply do not understand the attraction. He cares nothing for them – why does he do it? Supplication: At least, perhaps, with _you_ it might be rational but with them…"

Bastila was taken aback. "With me? What do you mean by that?"

"Obvious statement: Why, it is clear the master favors you. Answer: It simply seems more logical to me that he would engage in such revolting human mating practices with someone he is partial to," the droid explained.

She felt her face flushing some. "Favors me? Please. I'm his prisoner!"

HK nodded, as if that made his point. "Agreement: That you are, Jedi. Statement: But he still favors you. I have seen what he has done to other prisoners. You are not simply here because of this Battle Meditation you possess."

Bastila muttered something under her breath and turned away for a moment. Another moan filtered through the walls, followed by a muffled 'thump', and she rolled her eyes. "So if he favors me, I should be doing that with him?" she said, pointing at the wall and glaring at the droid.

HK chuckled. "Answer: No, Jedi, I am not saying you should be doing that with him – I am simply stating that he should be wanting to do it with you. Bemused statement: Many humans seek emotional fulfillment through this mating practice of yours… Supplication: I believe the master would benefit from that." The droid saw her confused expression, and he sighed. "Explanation: The master had someone else he favored once – I was not built then, but he has told me about it. Statement: I am very nearly one-hundred per cent positive they engaged in the mating practice…though I suppose the correct term for this," he waved his rust-red hand at the wall and the noises, "and past times is 'recreational activity.'"

Bastila was still in shock from the droid's initial words. "Revan should want to sleep with me?" She laughed. "He does – he told me as much. But that is the last thing I would ever want to do with him," she finished cynically.

HK seemed to pause and gaze at her for a long while. "Amazed statement: So even Jedi are capable of lying when it suits their purposes."

Bastila flushed and gaped at the droid. "That was not a lie!" she snapped at him.

"Statement: I beg to differ, Jedi. Your vital signs shifted when you said that last sentence – your heart rate spiked, your temperature rose .32 degrees, and your pupils dilated. All signs of lying, given off by your own body."

She glared murderously at him and turned away, noticing that the water from the shower had shut off. As soon as it came back on, Bastila felt as if her entire body had been doused in freezing cold, and she shuddered harshly, goosebumps forming on her skin. Letting out a displeased "Mmm", she retrieved a blanket and wrapped it around herself, settling on her bed. Her back was propped up against the headboard, and she stared at HK-47.

"Statement: Your temperature has dropped, Jedi."

Bastila glared at him. "I know. I'm cold," she said curtly.

The droid seemed to look around. "Statement: The air temperature has not changed."

She sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes. "Well that's wonderful – I'm still cold." Both of them fell silent for a time, and Bastila's thoughts wandered back to what HK had said earlier, that Revan had favored someone once before. What exactly did that mean? With the droid, it could have meant a number of things, and Bastila knew it would be unwise to dwell on it too much, lest it drive her mad. Suddenly, the door that connected hers and Revan's rooms slid open to reveal the Dark Lord. Bastila could not help but stare, even though she was immediately angered upon seeing his form – he was still damp.

His broad shoulders supported a robe that was open in the front, revealing his grooved, toned abdomen and some of his defined chest. Her eyes followed a single droplet of water down the middle of his abs until it disappeared into his navel; dragging her eyes back up, she noted that his hair was still messy. Every once in a while it shone from the water that still dampened it, making the urge that Bastila always had to touch it surface once more. All of her nerves seemed on edge, every friction of the blanket and her clothes against her skin amplified manifold. Finally finding her voice, she spoke in a tone that conveyed utter contempt.

"What could you possibly want? You just had your favorite form of entertainment – is it too much to ask you to leave me in peace while I attempt to erase the noises I just heard from my memory?" she snarled coldly.

Revan's half-smile showed that he was enjoying her displeasure. "My apologies, once again," he began, but she cut him off.

"Oh you lying bastard – you're not sorry! I hope you get a disease and die!" Bastila snapped, her glare like ice.

"Hesitant observation: Master, I could be reading her vitals wrong, but she seems to be more riled than would be normal in a situation like this," HK interjected, earning him a glare. "Amused addendum: I do believe she wishes for me to die too, Master."

The Sith Lord chuckled. "She's just jealous," he said with a shrug and a challenging smile on his face, the taunt glittering in his shadowy emerald irises like a fleeting wisp of smoke.

"Jealous? Oh please. You're just sick of settling for less," Bastila retorted, a far too pleasant grin on her face as she answered him.

Revan took a few steps inside her room. "Settling for less? And just how do you know that you would be any better?"

Bastila's grin turned a bit evil now as she stood and let the blanket slip rather slowly from her form as she walked towards him, subconsciously knowing that would keep his attention. "Because I know you want me," she answered, close to him now, gazing up into his captivating irises.

His smile was amused now. "And you think you can lord that over me?"

"Oh no, not lord it…but I _can_ torture you with it," she replied, her tone slightly seductive. He was not going to win this battle; she didn't care what she had to do, he was going to lose.

"Playing with fire is never safe, Bastila," he said, growling her name and sending another shiver through her.

"I think it is when you're all wet," was her answer as she traced the path of another droplet that slid down his abdomen with her fingertip, then wiped the wetness onto his robe with a triumphant air.

Revan had blinked and tensed his stomach when he had felt her fingertip on him, and where she had slid it down there stayed a buzzing warmth. He opened his mouth to shove her words back in her face, but never got the chance to.

"Disgusted request: Master, if you and the Jedi are going to swap bodily fluids, may I please have permission to kill myself?"

Both the Sith Lord's and the Jedi's head snapped around to stare at HK, whom they had both forgotten was still in the room. Revan was the first to react, and he laughed darkly.

"Swap bodily fluids?" He glanced back at Bastila. "I'd like to keep all of my body parts, thank you HK."

The droid's eyes seemed to light up even more. "Query: Castration? Statement: Oh I do so love the screams that such an act brings out in even the most hardened of men. Hasty explanation: But I do not wish for you to lose that organ, Master. That would be… most humiliating."

Bastila caught his scent as Revan turned and walked away, and had to close her eyes for a moment to regain full brain function. Why did he have to look, feel, _and_ smell good?

_Now you just need taste_, her brain taunted, causing her to frown.

"Hm, yes, it would be," Revan replied as he strode towards the exit to Bastila's room – the entrance to his own. "Come, HK."

The droid followed, leaving Bastila mercifully alone when the door between their rooms slid shut. Oh that man infuriated her sometimes! She angrily hurled a pillow as hard as she could at the door, ripping her sheets back and climbing beneath them, burrowing in. Once comfortable, Bastila tried to let go of her anger; she concentrated on the wonderful mattress, the soft sheets, the way they had a soothing hint of lavender in their scent. Within minutes she was asleep, her dreams vivid and focused on one thing: Revan.

* * *

Revan glanced down at his dark khaki cargo pants and checked to make sure he had everything attached to his belt and in his pockets that he needed. He was in a sleeveless grey shirt, dark khaki pants, and tan boots; his lightsabers were clipped to his belt, in full view of any who were to look at him. He didn't bother with an over-robe; it would've been too hot. Bastila was behind him in her typical, tight Jedi robes, and HK stood behind and to his right, glowing red eyes scanning the hangar bay. He glanced at his female companion.

"Sante said your mother was in the cantina – we should head there first."

"And ruin the whole day?" Bastila retorted. "Fine, if that's what you want. I would like to just get this over with."

"Why do you have such an intense dislike for your mother?" Revan asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

"Because she drove my father mercilessly. Always wanting more: more things, more money, more of it all!" she snapped. "What my father ever saw in her, I will never understand."

Revan mused for a moment. "He saw something, and that something helped him to create you – whatever he saw served its purpose, no?"

Bastila felt a very slight flush threaten her cheeks, though she couldn't be sure if it was because of Tatooine's two suns or Revan's compliment. Why was it that when he complimented her, it was so much more meaningful than when anyone else did? Why did it embarrass her so? Why did it make her flush with pleasure upon knowing she had gained his approval?

"Hm, I am glad to be alive, so I suppose it served its purpose, yes," she returned quietly.

Revan nodded and motioned for her to walk with him. Bastila glanced at HK, admiring the burnished glow he gave off in the bright sun. She didn't like the droid, but she had found something worth respecting within that behavior core of his the day before.

"Your mother doesn't know you're my prisoner," she heard Revan say, and she brought her focus back to their conversation.

"Oh well that will go over well. 'Hello mother – this is my captor, Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith. Oh no, he's very sweet, don't worry.'" Bastila rolled her eyes at the end of her sarcasm-drenched words.

Revan's mouth curled up into an amused smile. "Which is exactly why we'll avoid telling her that I'm your captor."

"Then what are we going to say? 'Yes, he's my lover. I know I'm not supposed to have emotional attachments, but he's different mother – you must understand!'" Bastila said, again sarcastic, but with a bit of a grin this time.

Revan shrugged. "That would be a plausible explanation. Easily affected, easily upkept – and you did say you were good at acting. Now would be the time to prove it to me," he responded in all seriousness, but his last statement holding a bit of a challenge.

"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you?" she shot back with a glare.

"I think it safest if I don't reply to that," Revan answered with an indefinable smile. Bastila gave him a look of utter disdain and sighed.

"Here," her captor said, pointing towards a severely carbon-scored door. He reached the door first and stepped inside, becoming momentarily lost to Bastila amidst the gloom of the cantina. When her eyes adjusted, she saw Sante standing up and motioning towards Revan; she caught sight of her mother next, and her insides tightened. There was no avoiding it now – she really _would_ have to interact with the woman who had given her life and made it a miserably cold existence. Clenching her jaw in preparation for the hell she was sure was soon to follow, Bastila took the same path Revan did and stood quietly behind the large frame of her captor, waiting.

"Sir, this is Helena Shan, Bastila Shan's mother," Sante told the Dark Lord with a slight bow.

Revan extended his hand with a rather warm, handsome smile on his face and shook Helena's hand firmly. "Mrs. Shan, how pleasant to meet you," he said, his voice deep, smooth, disarmingly calm.

Helena seemed taken aback by Revan's natural charm for a moment. "Oh, hello young man…and you are?"

"Ah, yes, excuse me. Your daughter is in my charge, and has been for the past few weeks. I am the man keeping her as safe as possible during this dangerous conflict we're in," Revan answered smoothly, stepping aside and placing a hand low on Bastila's back, very gently, and in a way that told her he was trying to do this as painlessly as possible, brought her forward to stand right next to him. Bastila noted he didn't remove his hand at all; in fact, he had drawn her rather close to him – she wondered what that was about.

Helena's eyes went wide as she saw her daughter for the first time in nearly seventeen years. "Bastila?" she asked, her voice suddenly a little weaker than before.

"Yes, mother, or don't you recognize me?" Bastila asked coolly. Their accents were very similar, Bastila's being more refined than her mother's; their eyes were almost exactly the same, though Helena's were a bit more on the blue side. The resemblance between them was easily seen, but Revan had the distinct impression that Bastila looked more like her father than her mother.

"What is it you want from me?" Bastila continued, her voice aloof. Revan closed his eyes briefly, knowing that wasn't exactly the best way to start conversation.

"How d'you expect me to recognize you when I haven't had so much as a picture of you in over a decade?" Helena demanded irately. Revan could see that she and her daughter shared a common interest in the easily aroused temper. "And is it too much to ask to see my own daughter before I die? I think not!"

"Are you really dying mother or is that just a ploy to leech credits from me?" the female Jedi inquired, her tone still very cool, almost icy.

Helena gave an incredulous laugh and turned to Revan. "Do you treat your mother like this?"

The Dark Lord shifted slightly towards Bastila and met Helena's eyes. "My mother is dead, if you must know," he responded quietly.

"Oh… I'm sorry for your loss," the mother said sincerely, patting Revan's upper arm, before her voice shifted to hard again. "I'll be joining her soon, I think."

"Please mother, spare me the guilt trip. What do you need?" Realization seemed to dawn on the younger woman's face. "And where is father?"

Helena returned her gaze to her daughter, her eyes sad. "Your father is dead, Bastila. That's one of the reasons I wanted so badly to see you," she said softly.

"N…No – what did you do to him?" Bastila demanded taking a step towards her mother. Revan gently grasped her arm and held her back. "You killed him, didn't you?"

"If you want to blame me for his death, I cannot stop you. But before you go assuming it was I who sent him on another treasure hunt, know this: he did this of his own free will. I begged him not to," Helena said, her entire body showing that she was telling the truth. Her shoulders sagged, her face showed the stress she had been through, her eyes were dulled with pain. "But he was determined to get money to pay for my treatments… he took this job for that reason alone."

"How do you know he's dead?"

"Another hunter saw him die, Bastila! He saw your father fall!"

Bastila opened her mouth to say something, but it didn't come out. Finally, after a long while, she spoke so softly Revan almost couldn't hear her. "So you _are_ dying."

"I wasn't lying about that Bastila," Helena replied equally as quietly.

Another pause. "What is it you need me for then?"

Helena took a breath and gathered herself again. "I want you to find your father's holocron, Bastila, and bring it back to me."

"I don't even know where to look, mother. How can I find it if I'm given no direction?"

Her mother winced slightly at the venom in her daughter's words, but knew she was right. "Your father was searching for Krayt dragon pearls. His body is somewhere in the Dune Sea; I'm sure you could ask one of the hunters – they would know where."

"I know where it is," Revan interjected, causing both Bastila and Helena to snap their heads around and look at him. They had forgotten he was there; this surprised Bastila, as Revan's warm hand was still gently grasping her arm.

"Well perhaps you have more uses than I thought, young man," the mother said with a slight smile.

"I'm skilled at many things," Revan replied, "and I've explored this planet before. I'll be able to find the Krayt dragon cave."

"If my daughter decides to do as I have asked," Helena said with a hint of bitterness. "Whatever you decide, I'll be here." She turned and walked away, seating herself at an empty table in the cantina and gazing down at the chipped and scarred wood. Revan turned to Sante.

"Stay here, keep an eye on her." The soldier nodded and slid back onto his seat at the bar. "Come," the Dark Lord said softly to his female companion, allowing her to go first out of the cantina and into the blazing suns of Tatooine. Once outside, he gently guided Bastila to a cool, dark alleyway between the cantina and another building. They were blocked from the sight of others and in relative seclusion, and that was what Revan wanted. He waited for her to speak, knowing that anything he said would likely result in disaster. Finally, her voice trembling, words came out.

"My…my father is dead…that…that leaves a hurt inside you just can't imagine," Bastila said quietly, her eyes glassy as she stared hard at the sandy ground. "And now my mother wants his holocron…for herself?"

Revan knew this was a delicate situation. If Helena kept the holocron, to Revan, that would be a wrongdoing on her part; at the same time, he did not feel it wise to encourage Bastila to alienate her mother any further, as the woman _was_ sick and slowly dying. He was just…confused. Since when had he actually tried, actually _wanted_ to see someone happy? Now, it seemed as if that was what he worked for when around Bastila – he liked seeing her happy. Perhaps he liked her being pleased with him, but since when had that mattered to him before?

_**Once before – you remember all too well.**_ The Dark Lord frowned. Yes, he did remember that all too well, and the consequences that came with it. But, as his master Kreia had told him, no one, even the strongest, could separate themselves from their emotions – not forever. And, she had said, the strongest of these was the call of the heart… which was precisely what made it so dangerous. Trying to push that aside for now, he listened again as Bastila spoke.

"I want to find father's holocron…I just don't know if I want to give it to my mother. I know I should be above such pettiness, but…" she trailed again, looking up at him now, the helplessness clear in her eyes. Force how he wanted to soothe that away – how did she _do_ that? "It seems that I cannot remain objective when it comes to my mother," Bastila sighed.

The Sith Lord furrowed his brows for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest. "All right, you've made one decision. We will find this holocron. What we do with it from there is a decision we'll make later."

Bastila's eyes narrowed suspiciously and her tone became harder. "Why are you helping me with this, Revan?" she asked, her voice conveying she knew he had ulterior motives.

There was no reason to lie to her. "I'm dealing with an issue that involves the Sand People. Their enclave is in the Dune Sea, as is this Krayt dragon cave. It's barely out of my way – and Krayt dragon pearls are excellent lightsaber additions," he told her, relating this in a cool, almost aloof tone as he gazed out into the streets of Tatooine, seeing HK's constantly scanning form looking around attentively.

"So it has absolutely nothing to do with helping me? I should've known," she muttered darkly, making to brush past him.

Revan gently gripped her arm and forced her to look up at him. "If I didn't want to help you, I wouldn't," was all he said before releasing her and walking towards HK, sharing something with the droid for a brief moment. He turned back to her and jerked his head towards the settlement of Anchorhead. "Come on – we want to reach the Krayt dragon cave at midday, and we can do that if we leave now."

Bastila saw the wisdom in this calculated move. "We'll wait out the hottest part of the day in the cooler cave," she said, half-statement, half-question.

The Sith Lord nodded but said nothing as he led them towards the massive gates that let hunters in and out of the Dune Sea. There was a single man guarding these gates, and Revan approached him confidently. The guard seemed greatly irritated by the Dark Lord's presence, and glared at him.

"Unless you've got a license you're not getting out there," he grunted.

Revan took two swift steps and closed the gap between himself and the man, drawing a dagger and pressing it hard into the man's gut. "You would do well to know who you're addressing," the Sith Lord snarled quietly.

Bastila was completely surprised. Even to her, as close as she was, it looked like the two men were simply sharing a sensitive piece of information that didn't need to be overheard, or perhaps a rough hug.

The guard winced as the sharp blade dug into the skin of his abdomen and drew droplets of blood. He knew full well who he was dealing with now; he had been told Revan was coming – he had just expected the Dark Lord to be decked out in full armor, not to look like a normal man.

"Argh…my…my apologies, Lord Revan. I wasn't…told you would be…in civilian clothes. That is…my mistake. Please…" he begged, praying the Sith Lord would have mercy on him.

With a quick but natural movement, Revan sliced the man's stomach and replaced the knife in its sheath on his upper thigh. "Address everyone with respect, even the lowest street urchin," he growled. "You never know who it may be you're sharing words with."

The man hissed as his flesh was cut and reflexively sucked his stomach inward to try and get away from the knife, drawing back from Revan as he did so; the entire thing looked so very ordinary that Bastila wasn't sure if she could trust what she saw anymore. It seemed as if Revan and the man had simply stepped back and were done with their amicable exchange.

Brushing past the guard, Revan paused as the gates snarled open, vibration pounding through the ground and making his feet tingle at he waited. Stepping through to the edges of the Dune Sea, he raised a hand up to shield his eyes and gazed around, finding very little of interest; that was good. It meant there would be little distraction along the way.

"Disappointed statement: Master, I would've enjoyed it so much more had you killed that worthless meatbag," HK stated with a resigned sigh.

He didn't glance back as he spoke to his droid. "And drawn attention? I think not, HK. Attention is what I _don't_ want right now."

"Reluctant resignation: Yes, Master." The droid scanned the Dune Sea for a few seconds. "Statement: Multiple life form readings, but I cannot pinpoint them due to the heat rising from the sand."

Revan nodded. "Fair enough. Be ready for an ambush," the Dark Lord advised as he took point, one of his lightsabers unclipped from his belt and in his hand. They trudged along, sweat sliding down the two humans' necks, dripping from their hair, running into their eyes. After a good five minutes of walking and seeing nothing but sand, Bastila began to get annoyed.

"Revan, do you even know where you're going?" she demanded, squinting her eyes against the brightness of the suns of Tatooine.

He turned his head to look back at her, and she was captivated by the way a droplet of sweat ran down his nose, over his lips, and finally dropped from the tip of his closely trimmed goatee, its moisture immediately being sucked up by the thirsty sand. "Yes," he grunted. "See?" He was pointing at what looked like huge spires of sand in the distance. "There's a path through there."

"And how far away is – " Bastila began, but was interrupted by the all too recognizable cry of a Tusken Raider.

"Sand People!" the Dark Lord barked, igniting his crimson blade with a familiar snap-hiss. The female Jedi flicked out her retractable vibroblade and twirled it once, gripping the hilt tightly with both hands, her eyes scanning for the attackers. Revan deftly stepped in front of her as a Raider leapt out from behind a sand dune, his gaffi stick raised high above his head – his action rash, but his form perfect as he sailed through the air. The Dark Lord brought his lightsaber up perpendicularly to the gaffi stick and blocked the Raider's attack, letting out a rough "oof" as the attacker's feet double-planted into his chest and caused him to stumble backwards. With a growl, Revan lunged at the enemy, pausing as the Raider did a backwards roll to get back on his feet. He gave a harsh, guttural bark at the Sith Lord, and three more Sand People appeared from behind the dune as well.

HK took part in the battle now; the droid let out a series of rapid bursts of blaster fire, felling two of the four Raiders instantly. Bastila ducked a high swipe from a gaffi stick and kicked out at her attacker's knee, hearing a sick crunch as his leg snapped backwards at the joint. With a precise, over-the-wrist flip of her vibroblade, she sliced down across the Raider's face, watching blood dribble out from the broken mask as his body slumped to the sand. As she turned to her right, she saw Revan withdraw his lightsaber from the original Tusken Raider's chest, pushing the body away with his foot and glaring down at it as it fell.

"Well that was pleasant," she commented, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. Revan found this an oddly innocent gesture, considering that she had just killed someone. A grunt was the only reply he gave as he deactivated his lightsaber and clipped it back to his belt. He led on silently, bringing them ever closer to the spires that were their gateway to more desert. _And my father_, Bastila thought… hoped – but at the same time, hoped against it. She didn't know if she could stand the sight of her father's body lifeless in the sand. Frowning, she pushed those thoughts from her mind, knowing she needed to keep her wits about her in this desert. It was unbearably hot, and sweat ran down her neck, dripped off strands of her hair, caused her clothing to stick to her body.

Revan was in much the same state, she noted. His shirt was soaked through with moisture, turning it a darker color of grey, and the sweat was beginning to seep through the hem and seat of his pants. Dripping from his short hair, each droplet gleamed in the sun before disappearing against skin, cloth, or sand. This made his shirt stick to him as well, and Bastila could see more perfectly the strong muscles in his shoulders and back; the sheen of wetness that painted his arms also brought out each curve and dip of muscles and veins. If she hadn't been in so much misery, Bastila thought that she might have been truly enraptured by the sight of him – as it was, it was a good distraction for her own discomfort.

Slowly but surely, they trudged closer to the spires of sand and rock. Suddenly though, Revan's hand shot out and HK halted immediately, Bastila stopping a second afterwards. The Dark Lord turned his head to the left, and she watched his profile, seeing the way his eyes narrowed and scanned around. Revan was sure he had heard something and caught movement in his peripheral vision, but now nothing seemed to shift save for swirls of sand picked up by the wind that was now mercifully allowing some semblance of a cool breeze.

"Hm. Keep moving," he said quietly but gruffly, making a hand motion to HK that Bastila did not understand. The droid nodded, however, and flipped the safety off of his blaster rifle. The female Jedi saw Revan unclip his lightsaber from his belt, and a tendril of anger flared up within her. Was he simply going to leave her in the dark, when it was obvious he thought they were in danger? At that moment though, his pace slowed and he dropped back and fell in step with her as naturally as she had ever seen someone move.

"We're being watched," he murmured, not looking at her. "Don't pull out your weapon just yet; keep the blade retracted."

Bastila frowned at him. "I'd like my lightsaber back," she grunted.

"And announce to the entire galaxy you're a Jedi? I think not. I need you to be as inconspicuous as possible." He finally glanced down at her, and there was something in his eyes that she couldn't quite place. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, then moved his eyes to the front again, his tone now businesslike. "But this is a good lesson – a Jedi need not be attached to his lightsaber to function properly."

She sighed, knowing he was right, but hating how he always went about _being_ right. Calmly; as if it was an obvious thing. That irked her: that he knew he was right, and seemed to wait for her to make a mistake, or say something worth him correcting – and then he did it with a sort of gentle 'Ah yes, you're finally ready' air. It was condescending, but at the same time, not. It angered her sometimes when he did it, but she had always noticed that Revan didn't do it to embarrass her, or to show his superior knowledge. He did it simply to help her increase in skill or avoid making the same mistake again.

"It doesn't seem that they're ambushing us any time soon, Revan," she said in a low voice, still a bit wary.

"I didn't say we'd be getting ambushed," he replied just as quietly. "I said we were being watched." They had drawn very close to the spires of sand, and now saw that there was a Tusken Raider walking towards them, with two fellow Raiders following. "And now being either greeted, or threatened. I'm going to assume the latter."

The Sand People halted just outside of the path that snaked between the spires and waited, watching them intently. Revan moved in front of the group now, keeping his lightsaber deactivated but gripped firmly in his hand as they approached. When they got within a reasonable distance, the guttural growling and barking language of the Sand People reached their ears. Revan looked expectantly to HK.

"Translation: He demands for you to leave – he says you are trespassing."

Revan snorted. "Trespassing my ass. Tell him to let us pass or I'll cut him down where he stands. This is a commercial passageway."

"Gleeful statement: I do so hope this deteriorates into violence," HK stated, his eyes flickering with anticipation. Turning to the Tusken Raider, the droid translated once more. The Raider's reaction was obvious: his entire body tensed, and he stood up a bit straighter as he growled something back. HK turned back to Revan. "Statement: …He refuses."

The Dark Lord closed his eyes and clipped his lightsaber back to his belt; letting both of his hands fall to his sides and hang there. Bringing his hands together, he cracked his knuckles on both hands, and then spread his arms wide, a far-too-calm smile spreading across his handsome face. "Tell him to come and get me then, because one of us is going to die here. Tell him I won't move my feet from this spot – if he can reach me, he can kill me."

HK seemed to pause for a moment, then, with an air of obvious smugness, translated to the leading Tusken Raider, then stepped aside. Bastila felt irritation mounting at this entire exchange.

"You're being a fool, Revan," she snapped. "Showing off isn't going to win you any favor with me, and it certainly won't keep you from dying!"

Revan turned his head to look at her, and the Tusken Raider sprang, leaping at the Dark Lord, his gaffi stick drawn back to his side in preparation for a powerful, swinging strike. Bastila opened her mouth to warn Revan and began to take a step towards him but was stunned into paralysis by what happened next. Seemingly out of nowhere, a column of lighting roared down upon the Raider's body, striking him down in mid-air, his body half-melted, half-burned away as he crumpled to the sand. Bastila blinked for what felt like an eternity before looking back to her captor, finding his arms still spread wide, his eyes gazing calmly at her.

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," he replied finally. "And if it is my appointed time to die, then nothing I can do will stop my life from departing me." Turning his head back to the other two Sand People, he slowly curled both open hands into fists and watched with a cold detachment as they clutched at their throats and let out strangled noises. With an almost jerky movement, he clenched both fists and yanked them upwards slightly; Bastila heard two sickly wet sounding crunches. One Raider convulsed for a moment before thudding softly to the sand, and the other simply slumped over, joining his two dead brethren.

"You're a sadistic bastard," the female Jedi hissed, her body rigid with anger. There was no need for him to do that! He was simply indulging his cruel side because he could.

The Sith Lord turned his head to look at her again, and she felt her breath catch in her throat at the emptiness she saw in his eyes. But it was fleeting, and was almost instantly replaced with annoyance that was, she was certain, directed at her.

"Sadistic bastard? Perhaps. But I warned them what would happen if I was not allowed to pass. They sealed their own fate."

"You have a logical explanation for every one of your actions, don't you?" Bastila muttered, glaring at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

Revan's snort startled her some, and her anger dissipated for a brief moment. "You think that? That I can explain everything I've done? Justify everything I've done? I can't, and I don't presume to – I'm not justifying their deaths. I murdered them. I am simply passively countering your label of 'sadistic bastard.'"

"And you can live with knowing you're a murderer?" she asked, almost incredulously.

The Dark Lord's smile was not exactly sane. "I'm still breathing, aren't I?"

Bastila was floored. He didn't even try to justify it all; he could live with himself, knowing the truth about everything?

"Do you even have a soul anymore?" she blurted, wincing as she realized how that sounded. Bastila knew how Revan saw her; she knew that he put weight on her opinion of him and what she said about him.

He turned fully now and walked towards her, halting barely inches from her, gazing down at her with an intensity that was almost painful. Slowly, she brought her eyes up to meet his and was flooded with relief as she did not find any traces of anger within his irises – all she saw was a slight confusion, and perhaps some pain he was trying to conceal.

"I do," she heard him murmur, and felt the roughed skin of his palm and fingertips on the side of her face and her neck, his fingers sliding into her hair a tiny bit. "But it's lost," he finished after a short pause, his voice quiet. Her skin was dry, and her hair only slightly damp from sweat, he noted.

"And do you think I can lead it back?" Bastila inquired hesitantly, slight creases in her forehead, her brows lightly furrowed. Where was he taking this? His hand shifted and she felt her eyelids grow a little heavy. Even the soft friction of his fingers barely in her hair was soothing enough to begin to relax her; somehow, he managed to encompass all of her senses, and block out the heat and oppressiveness of Tatooine. She lifted her hand and placed it over his, pulling his down and away slowly. He let his hand be removed, but he was slightly disappointed.

"That depends on if you want to find it, and if I trust you enough to let you," Revan replied before turning to the front again. "Come on – I'm sick of being out here," he said at a normal volume now. Stepping rather irreverently over the charred body in the sand, the Sith Lord set off at a brisk pace through the spire-flanked passageway that snaked through the desert for a good while. After a minute or so of following this path, Bastila noticed something.

"Revan…are we going down?"

"This is the only passage that leads through a rock wall in the desert – yes, we are going down."

Looking around, the female Jedi saw that they were indeed flanked by layers of rock for a good dozen feet or so. "Does it just drop off into a cliff?"

Her male companion nodded. "A rather steep one at that. It isn't very high, but it is abrupt, and for all intents and purposes, unable to be traversed or scaled. I don't know if this path is man-made, or if it's been here forever, but it is the only one that has been discovered that leads down to the other section of desert."

Nodding, Bastila saw that they were coming to level ground now and sighed as they again stepped out into the oppressive sun. The passageway had been relatively shaded and cool, and she had enjoyed the brief respite.

"Which direction now?"

Revan made a lazy motion with his hand towards his left. "That way," he told her, but did not move in that direction just yet. He was scanning to the right, trying to determine if there was any unusual activity in the direction of the Sand People's enclave. Giving a short 'hmm' he turned and set off towards another set of spires that marked their next destination. As they passed through this much shorter pathway, the Revan noted that the ground seemed recently disturbed, and he again unclipped one of his lightsabers, his senses more alert. The footprints could have been nothing more than hunters' from hours prior, but they did not carry the same imprint in the ground. Hunters were usually laden down with a gun or two, equipment to strip their kill, and their spoils – their footprints sank more into the ground than others'. Sand People, however, wore only the robes on their backs and carried nothing more than a gaffi stick or some bantha fodder, making their footprints much lighter. These footprints looked similar to those of the Sand People, perhaps intermingled with some hunters' footprints as well.

"Statement: Master… there is one very _large_ Krayt Dragon just ahead…"

Revan chuckled. "I know." He paused a second, then continued. "I want you to stay back, with Bastila," he said to HK. "The Krayt Dragons are getting close to mating season… they're unpredictable at the best of times, and even worse when they're about to mate. She is not to be harmed, understood? I want you to watch out for Raiders, not so much the Dragon – I can handle him."

The droid nodded. "Statement: Yes Master. I will do as you order." He angled his head towards Bastila. "Request: Jedi, if you would come with me…"

Bastila looked at Revan for a moment, who gave a slight nod towards his droid, and gazed back at her with a look in his eyes she couldn't quite define. She watched a bead of sweat roll down his face, along the outside of his right eye, and slide into the crevasse that his scar made. Sighing, she gave him a glare. "Revan, I would prefer it if you not try to get yourself killed in everything that we do," she said, wearily irritated.

The Dark Lord allowed an amused half-smile to curve the right side of his mouth. "I'm not trying to get myself killed – I'm not going to fight the damn thing. Just trust me, Bastila. Have a little faith in me, and you won't be disappointed," he said, voicing that phrase for the first time since it had crossed his mind weeks ago. Why he did so was beyond him.

The female Jedi closed her eyes for a moment in a bit of frustration. "I do have faith in you – I _don't_ have faith in those things you can't control," she replied, her grey eyes flashing a shade of blue. Revan frowned. How many times had he seen that now? Her eyes were an amalgam of blue and grey, he was sure of it… but why did he never seem to have the time to find out? Somehow, the color always escaped him, even when he got the chance to stare into her eyes. Somehow, he was always too distracted in his own mind to commit Bastila's eyes to his memory. He knew her touch – it was soft, hesitantly curious of the part of him she was touching, always gentle. He knew her voice – quiet, smooth, silky to his ears, softly accented. But he did not know her eyes. Again, the saying 'eyes are the window to the soul' flitted across his mind, and he wondered if he did not look into her eyes long enough to memorize them because he did not want her to see him, or if he was afraid of what he might see reflected back in her irises.

"Trust me," Revan repeated, turning away from her and gazing at the enormous canyon Krayt Dragon that was nestled into a cave to escape the scorching midday sun. It was probably an adolescent, he surmised, but a magnificent creature at that. Revan did not want to kill it, only to get past it; Krayt Dragons weren't known for their ability to resist the Force, and the Dark Lord hoped that this would work to his advantage. He surveyed the area, taking in the wide, open space that stretched for a good hundred meters between where he was standing – the mouth of the passageway – and where the cave and Dragon were. It was a workable area, Revan decided. If the Dragon became too agitated for some reason, the Sith Lord would have ample room to move. Throwing a glance behind himself to check that Bastila and HK were in the correct positions, Revan silently began to move forward.

The Krayt Dragon was sleeping – a common thing for animals to do during midday. Not needing to use the Force to silence his footfalls, for he was rather skilled at moving quietly under even the most impossible circumstances, Revan stole across the hundred-yard expanse of sand and drew close to a side of the cave wall, making himself as invisible as possible. Krayt Dragons were known for having poor depth perception, and Revan pressed himself fully against the wall to capitalize on this weakness. He closed his eyes for a moment, a smile barely tugging at the corners of his mouth as he listened to the deep, rhythmic breathing of the massive beast, and sensed the strength that seemed to ripple off the thick, scale-plated skin in oscillating waves.

"Beautiful creature," the Dark Lord whispered, his words drowned out by the exhale of the Dragon. Revan opened himself to the Force, letting it flow through him fully – he would need it for this task. Calm, almost overly so, he stepped forward, pausing only when he was level with the closed eye of the Dragon; reaching out he placed both hands on the beast's cool, rough, studded skin, and waited. Within two seconds, the creature's eye slid open, a membranous second lid sliding back as well, fully exposing the eyeball to the elements. A golden color mixed with flecks of crimson red stared back at him, the pupil a miniature black hole. Just before it stirred to move, Revan sent a soothing wave of the Force coursing through the beast, watching as its pupil dilated in response. The Dragon, who had picked up his head ever so slightly, rested it down again, gazing at Revan placidly. The Dark Lord sent another sedating pulse of the Force through the animal, and its eye slid shut again, its heavy lid closed and locked for now.

Turning halfway to his companions, he motioned for them to join him. HK strode forward confidently, but Bastila, he noticed, approached cautiously, warily. He didn't blame her. It wasn't every day that you were granted the chance to get up close and personal with a slumbering Krayt Dragon of the canyon variety. Bastila did draw near – nearer to Revan than to the beast – and watched the sleeping animal with curiosity.

"I can feel the Dark side on this beast… like a subtle pulse," she murmured; daring to brush her fingertips against the Dragon's cool, rough skin.

Revan half-smiled at her comment. "Do you think it's the beast, or the residual affects of having the Force, manipulated by me, coursing through him?"

Bastila cocked her head to the side slightly and bit her bottom lip, thinking. Mentally, Revan noted this and the reaction he had to it – wanting to kiss her – but mostly ignored it for now. "Hmm, well when you suggest it like that, I'm not too sure. Perhaps both," she answered honestly, looking around now. Revan felt her entire aura dim, and dampen, and he knew that she was thinking of what was coming next. "This is where my father's holocron should be, isn't it?" Bastila asked quietly, her hand slipping from the Dragon's skin.

Revan nodded. "Let me go first."

Bastila frowned. "And why is that?" she half-demanded, but when she looked up into his face, she felt she knew why.

"So if I find anything I don't think you should see, I can save you from it," he replied softly but firmly.

The female Jedi lowered her eyes, feeling the ache that had settled within her upon hearing the news of her father's death throb painfully. "Thank you, Revan," she whispered, thinking her words drowned out by the beast's breathing. Revan heard them, however, and touched her wrist in a gesture that told her he wanted to do more, but was restraining himself. She watched him turn, finding herself staring at his back now, his broad shoulders, at the sweat that darkened the grey shirt that clung to his skin. Though the massive Krayt Dragon practically hummed with raw, animalistic power, Bastila found that she could still sense the sheer force that flowed off Revan in seductive, tantalizing ripples, and it struck a chord of awe and desire deep within her.

Bastila wanted to taste that power, to taste _him_, and experience what he could give her.

But he moved then, and the spell was broken.

He moved methodically, inspecting the ground for any signs of a recently killed body, not seeing any remains that looked younger than a few weeks old. Revan quietly and carefully stepped around one of the hind legs of the Dragon and immediately halted. Blood splotched the sand here, and it was still fresh. Turning to Bastila, he spoke in a tone that was gentle but that left no room for argument.

"Stay here with HK. Let me check this out first."

The female Jedi hesitated, but nodded and shifted closer to the large rusty-copper hued droid. Her tension and discomfort was very palpable to Revan, making his own gut clench up, and his muscles fraught with anxiety. He frowned. He wanted to ease her, to soothe her, but he knew he could not. He didn't know what to do, and the fact still remained that her father was dead in this cave somewhere. With a sigh, and with a reminder in the back of his mind that they were likely bonded somehow since he felt her emotions so strongly, Revan turned away and focused on the task at hand. Stepping around the splotches of blood but following their trail, he slowly made his way to the back of the cave. He directed a baleful glance at the Star Map that rested, unbidden for a few years, against the very back wall of the cave. He did not need this, the secret to his military might, discovered by the Republic. Revan doubted Bastila would even notice it, and even if she did, she would likely not realize what it was, but he still did not want to take that risk.

He sighed again. It was a calculated one though. He didn't want to tell his female companion that she couldn't see her father's body simply because of his own political interests – that wouldn't be right. Walking over to the Star Map, he watched as it began to open, recognizing his Force signature. With a wave of his hand, Revan activated the locking mechanism on the Map, feeling that that would be sufficient enough precaution for now. Turning back to the destination the blood splashed sand had led him to, Revan crouched down, and with a great amount of respect, turned over the body that was prone on the ground so that he could see the cadaver's face. Immediately, the resemblance between the dead man and Bastila was evident. Though the man's eyes were not the same color as his daughter's – they were a green-tinted hazel – the facial structure was similar. They had the same jaw line though Bastila's was softer, and they had the same full, curved lips, though her father's were thinner and more masculine. Their eyes bore the same calm, even gaze that never wavered, no matter how dire the situation. His body was mauled, but it seemed as if the Dragon had not taken a liking to her father very much, as he was still recognizable.

Revan sighed. Closing the father's eyes with his fingers, the Dark Lord gently laid his head back down to the sand and paused, paying a silent respect for the man in front of him. Raising his bowed head, Revan slowly, with the utmost reverence, searched the body for the holocron it was supposed to contain. Unearthing it from a deep pocket, Revan inspected it for a moment, clutching it firmly in his hand as he stood. As he made his way around the Dragon's hind leg again, he kept his face softly blank, walking up to the woman who was with him. Bastila raised her eyes to his face, searching him, demanding with her gaze the knowledge that she knew he possessed. Revan could not hold back the quiet mourning that was inside of him, and it shone through in his eyes.

Bastila saw the soft sorrow that burned dimly in his shadowy green orbs, and that alone was what broke her. Seeing the man in front of her, a man whom she knew was strong, who could be emotionless, a stone-faced blank wall in the face of death, grieving for the passing of a man he never met, never knew, who meant nothing to him… Bastila couldn't bear to see that in Revan's eyes. She found her vision was clouding over with tears, giving her an excuse to look away from him and hide her face. _Don't speak_, her mind begged. _Please Revan, don't speak…_

"I found this for you," Revan said softly, grasping one of her hands and gently pressing the holocron into her palm. "I'm sorry…" he trailed, feeling very vulnerable being this overt with his emotion, but surmising that no one else could see, and that it would be callous of him to be unfeeling at a time like this.

Bastila tried to choke down the tingling, burning knot she felt in her throat, and blink away the scalding tears as Revan's soft tone reached her ears. He could be so very tender when he wanted to be, she thought, surprised at the gentleness with which he spoke and touched her. She glanced at her hand, feeling his warm, roughened fingers lightly grasping her wrist and seeing the disc of the holocron he had given to her.

"What does he look like?" she asked, her voice almost inaudible, and thick with unshed tears.

"Calm," Revan answered honestly.

"Can I see him?" was her next request. Bastila wanted to look upon her father's face one last time before she parted with him; it had been so long, she barely remembered what he looked like.

Revan hesitated. "If you want, yes."

She nodded, and Revan, moving slightly behind her and placing a hand on her lower back, led her to where her father's body lay. Were it not for the torn clothing and bloody patches of skin and fabric, it would have looked like the man had simply passed in his sleep. Bastila kneeled down beside him, her eyes shining with yet unfallen tears, and lovingly trailed her fingertips over his face.

"Father… why did you have to leave me?" Revan heard her whisper, and he watched her shoulders slump. Bastila's head was drooped, and he felt a tight burn in his chest as he saw her body begin to tremble ever so slightly with silent sobs. Letting out a soft sigh, the Dark Lord knelt beside his Jedi companion and placed a large hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. He was not prepared for the reaction this garnered.

Bastila turned to him, and buried her head into his chest, gripping his shirt tightly with her hands, twisting and pulling the tight fabric in her anguish. Shocked, Revan's initial reaction was to try and push her away, to distance Bastila from himself and keep the contact between them minimal; but he stifled this reaction, realizing that the only eyes watching were those of HK's. Shifting, he wrapped an arm around her waist and scooted them back until he was resting against the cool rock wall of the cave, Bastila curled into a tight ball in his lap, still sobbing quietly.

Her weight was light; her body felt small against his. Bastila let out a pathetic whimper and dug her nails into his chest through his shirt, and Revan leaned down, resting his chin on her head. He hushed her softly, soothingly rubbing her lower back and stroking her hair, murmuring something every now and then that Bastila couldn't understand. Her face was pressed against Revan's firm chest, and every time she breathed in she inhaled his scent, a salty, clean smell. Though they were in the middle of the Tatooine desert, the cave was cool and Bastila was grateful for Revan's warmth that seeped through her clothes to her skin, chasing the coldness away. Briefly, her mind screamed at her to get out of his lap, to get away from him, that she didn't need him, didn't want him, that she could be strong and handle this on her own, but when she tried weakly to pull away, Revan's strong arms held her fast, and she gave in, too devastated to resist him.

But her stubborn side fought back and a fresh wave of resolve gripped her. With a defiant sniff and a quick, rough drag of her sleeve across her wet eyes, Bastila pushed away from Revan's chest and stood, staring down at him almost as if _he_ were the weak one. Revan, a little shocked, simply stared up at her for a few moments, trying to decide if her sudden strength stung him, or if he respected it. He assumed a little bit of both.

"We should get back to my mother," the female Jedi stated a little shakily, but firmly. Revan, taking this as a silent confirmation that he was no longer needed – or perhaps he never had been in the first place, he wasn't sure – got up from the ground, brushed the sand from his pants and gave a short, curt nod.

"I'll take you back to your mother at the cantina. I want you to stay with Sante there."

Bastila's brows furrowed. "Stay with Sante?" she repeated, unsure of what Revan meant by that wording.

Revan gave her a subdued look. "Yes, stay with Sante. Did I mumble? I trust him to keep you safe. I need to investigate this issue with the Sand People; he will be your protection while I'm gone."

Bastila gave him an almost sullen glare as his thinly veiled insult singed her and followed along behind him as he led the way out of the cave and back into the scorching hot desert. They walked in a tense, borderline awkward silence all the way back to Anchorhead and Revan deposited her in an almost brusque manner in the cantina.

"Watch after her," she heard the Dark Lord say with a serious and almost dark tone to his soldier. Bastila saw him turn back, and his emerald eyes, burning out brightly from beneath his dark brows, caught her eyes and held them intensely for a few moments. A flicker of pain flashed across his orbs, followed by a bloom of defiant anger, and then he tore his eyes away, turning and leaving her behind confused and with a sinking feeling that something was about to go wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

All right! After oh...almost half a year, here's another chapter! I know it's been a long while coming, and I apologize.

EM, I did the best I could on my own with what you suggested. If you still don't like how it turned out, let me know and I will fix it - so to everyone else, this still could be a bit of a work in progress, but I couldn't make myself force you to wait any longer.

Oh and before I forget - no, I do not keep track of what Force powers were discovered when. That sort of continuity does not hold a high place of importance with me. Weapons and events and certain things like that I try to keep within the right time, but Force powers I don't even pay attention to. I'm not one for proper timelines sometimes, so sorry to all you who I'm hacking off by putting things in here that maybe shouldn't be yet. I'm not a Star Wars buff, I just like these characters and the concept.

Also: Is there anyone who reads this story that has a working knowledge of Irish Gaelic? Please let me know if you do.

Hope you enjoy!

(**P.s. Since there are so many people asking, I figured I'd put this up here. You will not find my exact profile picture anywhere on the internet. However, the original picture is on the website DeviantArt, and it's called "Scar Face" by Natalie79. The original picture has the man with grey eyes and different lips. My friend photoshopped the picture to look more like Revan for me.)**

* * *

Revan squinted and shielded his vision with his hand as he gazed out over the desert expanse. With a disdainful glance down at the bodies of the felled Tusken Raiders at his feet, the Dark Lord began moving again, using the boundary markers set up by Czerka keep him on the right path. He kept low, his head and face now covered by a sandy-colored material. This was a reconnaissance mission and Revan wanted to keep himself as invisible as possible.

A Bantha snorted in the distance, and Revan dropped to the sand, flattening himself and looking around.

Banthas meant Sand People nearby; he wanted to avoid an encounter with Sand People if at all possible. When he was satisfied that there was no imminent threat, Revan slowly picked himself up and continued along half bent over, moving quickly and in short bursts. The Sand People he, HK and Bastila had fought earlier had not been Raiders from the enclave. They had been Sand People from deep within the Dune Sea yet they had been guarding a path that was nowhere near their land…

Why?

Revan paused to check his surroundings. Dune Sea Tusken Raiders shouldn't have been within fifty miles of the Enclave Raiders. The two groups disliked each other and didn't have much contact other than what was required for trade, so it made little sense that a group of Dune Sea Raiders would be protecting a path that led to Enclave territory. Wincing as a droplet of sweat stung his eye, the Sith Lord picked up his movement again and halted only when the spires of sand that indicated a direct path to the Enclave were in his sight. Taking a wide berth to the right, Revan moved in a tangent to the circle that was the Enclave. He had no idea where he would actually hit the edge of it but that wasn't too important – he would just have to work either forwards or backwards from his initial contact point.

What mattered now was staying undetected, which was going to be difficult. Staying invisible was not a problem with Revan's mastery of the Force but avoiding all the sensors and turrets that the Sand People had erected around their Enclave was not as simple. The Sith Lord moved slowly and carefully, using the Force to bend the light around him and erase his form from visibility while keeping his own eyesight sharp and on the lookout for any sensors or turrets. They weren't overly difficult to spot but some of them were well hidden, half-covered by sand and weathered so that they lost their metallic glint.

At each sensor, Revan sent a short burst of electricity through the device, just enough to flip the surge switch and shut down the sensor; he had no desire to cripple the Tusken Raider's defense system permanently – they needed it to survive. The Sand People's perimeter protection wasn't hooked up to any sort of central hub, so he could get away with shutting down each sensor as he came to it. The Raiders within the Enclave would never know their first line of defense was slowly being disabled around them.

Revan finally caught sight of the camp and knew that he needed to keep moving forward. He was coming upon the entrance to the actual Enclave, and his destination was somewhere within. Revan normally wouldn't have paid much attention to any of the Sand People walking outside of the compound if there hadn't been something monumentally…_off_ about them. Coming to a full halt, the Dark Lord scrutinized each Tusken Raider separately.

Every one of them seemed to move in a daze and they all had what looked to Revan to be some kind of brand burned into their chests, through their clothing. It was as though someone had taken a white-hot iron and branded them with their robes still on.

He didn't recognize the symbol, but a memory of Malachor V and the Trayus Academy flashed across his mind, bringing with it a phantom sensation of pain in his chest, left arm, and right hand.

Unsettled, though a little intrigued by this, Revan opted to continue on: perhaps, he reasoned, he would find more answers within the Enclave. It was frustrating that he couldn't simply walk up and talk to a Raider, but they were a deeply unfriendly people and Revan hadn't memorized their language yet. Not that it really mattered, as he could not emulate the sounds of a Tusken Raider. He could, however, understand most basic phrases and some of the more complex ones. Keeping even lower to the ground, the Sith Lord almost crawled along until he reached what he calculated to be the point in the Enclave that was furthest from the entrance. He didn't like this position – it left him exposed. The Enclave was built into the surrounding rock formation, and this happened to be where a small dune had formed, putting Revan higher than the rest of the surrounding land. It gave him a wonderful view of everything beneath, but if anyone were to look up…

Revan rolled his eyes and stayed put, annoyed at his lack of concentration. He was invisible – he knew that. He let out a small sigh. Those brands were distracting him…He didn't understand their implications but it gave him a deeply uneasy feeling in his gut, and Revan had learned long ago never to ignore feelings like that. Jerking his thoughts back to the immediate present, he grunted. His view was blocked by one of the many strips of cloth draped all across the Raider Enclave that provided shade and protection from the harsh suns of Tatooine. Settling himself into a more comfortable position, the Sith Lord prepared to wait.

* * *

Helena stood in the cantina, looking at her daughter and wondering where the time had gone. Had it really been almost seventeen years now that she hadn't seen Bastila? That kind of distance had surely prevented a relationship from forming, Helena thought a little bitterly. And now here she was trying to make things right with her daughter before she died…and it was difficult, because neither woman knew the other.

Helena wasn't here for credits – she didn't need them. Her son was taking care of her and they lived decently, but he could only do so much for her; her medical bills were not cheap. She sighed, thinking about her son. He was on their ship, looking after it. Helena had asked him to stay on it just in case anything happened so they would be able to leave at a moment's notice.

"We found father's holocron," Helena heard her daughter say in a way that let her know Bastila was trying to break the silence.

"Did you?" she repeated a little distractedly before regaining her focus. She looked down, seeing her daughter holding the holocron out to her. Smiling a little sadly, she took Bastila's hand and closed her daughter's fingers around the holocron, pushing it back. "You keep it."

Bastila looked confused. "What?"

Helena's smile was patient now, mixed with the sadness. "I don't need that holocron to remember your father. It would do you more good than it would me, and you deserve it."

The young female Jedi was taken aback. "I…" she began, trying to argue, but she stopped, a soft, surprised look crossing her features. "Thank you, mother."

Helena gave a short, slow nod. "You're welcome, dear." She sighed. "I haven't seen you for seventeen years," she said, placing both of her hands on Bastila's shoulders, holding her at arm's length. "Let me look at you."

Bastila stood there a little self-consciously while her mother looked her over, unsure of how to act. She was still bitter over her mother's credit-sucking habits when her father had been alive, but she didn't want to carry that bitterness forever. She wanted to carry it even less now, since her mother was dying.

Helena smiled and gently ran a thumb across her daughter's cheek. "You've grown up so much…and into such a beautiful young woman," she said, pride swelling up in her chest. With a bit of ribbing humor and a bit of seriousness, she chided, "Too bad we can't find you a husband. That young man you were with earlier was quite attractive – he'd do quite nicely."

Bastila flushed and her eyes went wide. "Mother, _please_! I can't marry him!" She paused for a split-second to regain her composure. "I'm not supposed to marry _period_, but I certainly can't marry _him_."

"Supposing you could marry," Helena provided, "why couldn't you marry him?"

Bastila rolled her eyes at her mother's persistence. "Firstly: he isn't the type to settle down. He likes…_variety_," she said with distaste. "And secondly, he's got quite the track record for less-than-charitable acts. He just isn't marriage material."

"So he's a philandering rogue," she said with a chuckle. "He's still young – he'll come around, you'll see. You capture a man's heart and he'll be completely devoted to you, that I promise," Helena said with a wag of her finger.

The young Jedi was exasperated. "Mother, I _can't_ get married. I'm a _Jedi_."

"Oh posh," her mother said, pulling a face. "I've always hated that stupid rule. One of the reasons I didn't want to send you to that accursed Order in the first place."

Bastila exasperation evaporated into surprise. "You didn't want to send me to the Jedi?"

Helena looked just as shocked. "Why, no, dear – why would I want to give up my only child?"

The young woman was very confused. She had distinct memories of her mother seemingly happy as she was taken away by the Jedi that had visited Talravin…Were they simply fabricated from the bitterness she had carried all these years?

She spoke slowly, trying to find the right words. "Forgive me if I am wrong, but I remember…you being happy as I left with those Jedi…"

Helena sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she spoke, her eyes closed. "I wasn't happy you were leaving, Bastila, but I was very proud of you. To know that my daughter had special abilities and could become one of the people that the entire galaxy looked up to…it made me so very proud." She paused, looking up and meeting her daughter's eyes. "And I didn't want to frighten you any more than you were on that day, dear. You were being so strong, holding it all together. You didn't shed a single tear…I didn't want to ruin that, so I tried to be as strong as you were."

Bastila frowned and tried to dredge up the memory of that day. Could she really have been so mistaken? Had her mother just been trying to support her? The memory was hazy; all she could really remember was that her mother had been smiling that day, nothing more. Maybe it had been a bittersweet smile; maybe it was all just for show. She couldn't remember. But if it was, then she had been holding a grudge against her mother that was wholly undeserved.

Bastila's frown deepened.

Seeing her daughter's troubled face, Helena touched a gentle hand to Bastila's arm.

"Dear, don't blame yourself. You were young, and many things happened to you very quickly. You coped the best way you knew how," she said quietly, rubbing her daughter's shoulder.

Bastila nodded, murmuring an almost inaudible "Thank you." Taking a breath and pulling herself together again she lifted her head and inquired about something that had been on her mind for some time now. "How have you been getting along, Mother? You haven't been living alone, have you?"

Helena gave a short, amused laugh. "Why, Force no! Ryric takes care of me," she explained as if it was obvious.

Bastila stared blankly at her mother. "Who's Ryric?" she asked flatly, almost suspiciously. If there was already another man in her mother's life…

Helena placed a hand on her forehead, shaking her head. "I'm sorry dear; I forget that you've been gone for seventeen years sometimes. Ryric is your younger brother. He's sixteen."

It suddenly felt hard to breathe. "I have a younger brother?" That was a hard piece of information to digest. She had a sibling she had never known…Bastila didn't know what to feel about this new discovery. "Where is he now?" she probed.

Helena gestured to the door of the cantina. "I told him to stay and keep watch over our ship."

Glancing in the direction her mother had motioned the female Jedi furrowed her brows. Would it be wise to see her brother? Would she ever get the chance to again? If she saw him now, would that only cause them both more pain than never knowing each other would? Too many aspects to consider at once; the painful pressure behind Bastila's eyes attested to the stress this was creating. Catching movement in her peripheral vision, Bastila turned and watched Sante mutter something into his COM unit, most likely conversing with Revan. _Revan…what would he think of this? How would he react to the news of my younger brother?_ The Jedi knew that Revan's reaction would play a major role in how she would act upon this new development, as much as she resented it. The Dark Lord had a control over her life that was…insidious. It was complicated and confusing, but he managed to utilize it at every turn; Bastila wouldn't admit that she wanted to please him, but she did want to prove to him that she was not weak – she wanted to impress him; in the same manner, Bastila did not want to displease Revan for fear of suffering his volatile temper.

It infuriated her that Revan had this kind of control over her but the Jedi knew that seventy per cent of it was her own fault. She had humanized him. In letting herself come to care about him she had come to care what he thought and felt, which had made him more than just a name, more than just a symbol. Still, that other thirty per cent was on Revan's end, in those times that he showed compassion to her and true care, sincere gratitude and honest thoughtfulness: he was capable of it all, and Bastila had seen it. Those times let her know that he viewed _her_ as a person as well and not just some other objectified, sexualized woman in his life that was good for cheap pleasure and nothing more. There was a certain amount of respect between them that forced them to operate with one another, though at some times it seemed to Bastila that she had to work around Revan's every whim.

Snapped out of her deeply convoluted thoughts by a sudden blur across her vision, Bastila refocused her eyes and instinctively placed a hand on the vibroblade at her hip. Sante was moving swiftly to the cantina door, a vibroblade already drawn. The sound of muffled blaster fire came from outside and barked curses followed, sending the cantina into an eruption of chaotic noise and movement. Adrenaline flooding her system, Bastila felt her pulse hammering in her ears and in her hands from the tight grip she had on her vibroblade and she quickly moved in front of mother, ready to protect her from whatever was coming through that door.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

As Sante reached the door, it suddenly exploded in molten hot chunks of metal, and the soldier twisted his body around and fell backwards in a futile effort to avoid the projectiles. Bastila watched him fall, watched the way the pain contorted his face into a scrunched grimace; she felt frozen. Who would be attacking them? Why here? Why now? And where was Revan? Everything would be all right if Revan was near. Somewhere in her body fear mixed with the adrenaline that coursed through her, making her muscles feel leaden and heavy though they tingled as if an electrical current pulsed through her as well.

"Bastila? Bastila what's going on?" the Jedi heard her mother shout behind her. Her words barely registered over the pounding and ringing in her ears.

"I don't know yet!" she shouted back. "Just get down and stay there!"

Helena dropped immediately and Bastila moved forward, picking her way around the debris from the blast. Sante was already on his feet again, though she could see where the explosion had hit him, and he staggered a little bit as he hurled a grenade out of the door. HK's blaster fire outside was a constant thrum and it mingled with the shouting and dust and explosions that enveloped Bastila's senses.

"Sante – what the _bloody hell_ is going on?" she demanded when she drew near to the veteran soldier.

He grunted and squinted his eyes, trying to see through the smoke to the outside world. "No idea Princess, but it's you they want!"

"Define 'they'!" Bastila shouted back, her first assumption being the Jedi – but she was unable to link this kind of violence with her Jedi companions; they would not try to retrieve her like this…would they?

Sante shook his head tersely. "Looks like mercenaries and some Jedi!" He ducked his head from another blast and cursed. "Your boys must've hired some firepower! They must really need you back!" He was firing potshots into the thick smoke now since visibility was almost zero. "Dammit! This smoke grenade is murdering my sight!" the soldier snapped angrily.

"Where's – "

"Revan?" Sante yelled back, catching her eyes. Someone let out a horrific scream outside and the older man's weathered face broke into a borderline sadistic grin. He nodded his head towards the door. "The Dark Lord's taking care of business, Princess!" he said with a laugh. "Watch," he added, motioning towards the door again.

Bastila obeyed and gazed out into the thick smoke, hearing only spattered bursts of blaster fire now – mostly it was yelling and cursing at this point. Abruptly, the Jedi saw the smog that had fallen lift and she caught sight of Revan, his face towards the cantina, his eyes searching and worried. His hand was out as if he was controlling something and Bastila realized that he had pushed a gust of wind behind him to clear the smoke. Their eyes met and she distinctly saw relief flood his smoky orbs before he snapped his head back around and blocked laser fire of a mercenary with absolute precision, deflecting the bolts back at the attacker and felling him instantly. He ducked the swipe of a vibroblade without turning around and kicked backwards, catching the man in the gut and knocking the air out of him. As Revan turned, he lifted his lightsaber and sliced down and away from his body, his right arm extended out to his side as he finished the turn. The attacker's hands flew apart as the hilt of his vibroblade was sliced in two and he let out a pained grunt as Revan flicked his wrist around and ran the man through with his crimson blade.

Bastila started to move forward in an attempt to aid Revan but she stopped short when she heard him yelling at her as if he was right next to her ear.

"_Bastila, get the fuck back in that cantina!"_ his voice told her, and she obeyed, too shocked to do anything else.

Revan, knowing that his voice would not reach her over the chaos of this battle, tried something that he knew would work only if they were truly bonded: he probed his mind for the connection that he always felt he had with Bastila and sent a message through it. Cursing as he saw her do what he told her he turned his full attention back to getting rid of the few men that were left out here.

"HK! Don't kill that Jedi!" he barked, ducking more blaster fire and jerking his hand in the direction of a robed, young-looking man. "I want him alive!"

"Dejected affirmative: Yes, Master!" the droid replied, still letting off bursts of fire at the remaining mercenaries. He cut down three of them with three well-placed shots and then held his fire, seeing that the Jedi Revan wanted was the only threat left.

Revan lowered his lightsaber and watched this Jedi, waiting to see what he would do.

"Where's Bastila?" he demanded. "I know you have her with you!"

Revan let out a very amused laugh. "Oh, of course, let me just lead you right to her. In fact, I'll even let you take her back!" All the mirth disappeared from his face. "Surrender, Jedi."

"And let you kill me? I think not, _Sith_," the Jedi snapped back.

Lazily twirling his lightsaber, the Dark Lord began to circle the young man. "I never said I wanted to kill you…" he trailed.

A spasm of anger flashed across the Jedi's face before he controlled it, and a slow, wicked smile curved Revan's lips as he saw this. "You will _not_ convert me," he growled through clenched teeth, "and you will _not_ take me without a fight."

The Dark Lord laughed again and the Jedi felt himself shiver at the sound. With a wave of his hand, Revan used a Force power that was highly dangerous if executed incorrectly – Morichro – and incapacitated the Jedi instantly. "Your mind is weak, Jedi…it will not be hard to break you," he murmured as took the Jedi's lightsaber and deactivated it, doing the same with his own and clipping both to his belt. As he knelt down to check the young man's pulse, a muffled explosion rumbled through the air and Revan snapped his head up, seeing a cloud of dark smoke billowing up from the hangar bay.

"Amused statement: Master, I do believe that was our transport ship."

"Shit," Revan cursed under his breath. "HK, pick him up," he ordered, walking into the cantina as the droid obeyed and hoisted the unconscious man's body onto his metallic shoulders. He looked around first for Bastila and found her crouched against a wall, her eyes alert. When she saw him she stood and took a few steps toward him, her hand reaching out. Unsure of what to do, he stood there and watched her, wincing as her fingers touched him. "Ow," he said quietly, looking down and seeing blood on her fingers and his arm. Frowning as he saw that he had a cut, he easily knit the tissue back together with the Force and refocused on Bastila. "Are you all right?" he asked softly, his sincerity evident.

This surprised Bastila and she looked at him for a few seconds before responding. "Yes, I'm fine. Sante isn't though – I think he got hit by a grenade," she added with concern. Furrowing his brows, Revan turned and saw his soldier sitting on the floor, legs splayed out, back resting against the wall.

"If you two lovebirds are finished…" Sante trailed with a cough, "I could use some help."

Revan grunted at his comment and walked over to him, inspecting the damage done to Sante's body by the explosion. "Not bad; you'll be fine." He popped a kolto syringe into the soldier's leg. "This should take most of the bite out of the pain and slow the bleeding." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Now, if either of you has any way to get _off_ this planet without having to hijack another ship…our transport just got blown to hell."

Helena chose that moment to pick herself up off the floor and clear her throat. "I have a ship," she offered, "but you can use it on one condition: I get to stay with my daughter. You take me with you."

"Take you with us?" Bastila interrupted. "Mother I don't think – "

"Do you have a better option, Bastila?" Helena cut her off sharply.

The young woman closed her mouth and frowned darkly, not liking this chain of events at all. "No, I have no other option," she replied tightly, quietly.

The Dark Lord watched this exchange and raised a brow at Helena when it was finished. "That sounds like two conditions to me," he replied stubbornly.

"Well it's not," Helena said right back. "It's very simple – you take me with you so I can be with my daughter, wherever she is."

"And you won't let me use your ship any other way?"

"No," the mother replied firmly.

Revan sighed. He didn't want to drag Bastila's family along either, but he had no other way of getting off this planet short of calling down a Sith cruiser, and that was not an option. "Fine – where's your ship?"

"In the hangar bay. I can take you to it now, if you'd like."

"That would be best," the Dark Lord replied, helping Sante up and motioning for Helena to follow. He was taking point; he didn't know if there might be a second wave of mercenaries waiting to ambush them. "Let's go HK – hangar bay," he called to the droid, his eyes scanning around the throngs of people that had gathered to cautiously inspect the scene, searching for any potential threats. Bastila saw the way her mother looked horrified upon seeing the huge, copperish droid advancing with a human body slung over its shoulders and even she was a bit wary, recognizing the clothing on the human as the garb of a Jedi.

"Is he dead?" Helena asked warily.

"No. Unconscious," Revan said shortly. He caught Bastila's look and gritted his teeth. "Morichro. A technique in the Force. Slows down the body systems causing unconsciousness," he begrudgingly offered further to pacify the two women.

"Revan," Bastila said in a quiet, almost terse voice as she moved closer, "why is HK carrying a Jedi?"

He didn't look at her. "I want to find out what the Jedi are doing, how they knew we were here, and most of all, why there were mercenaries with them. I kept that one alive since he seemed like the leader."

Nodding silently and falling back to walk again with her mother, Bastila mused over what this would mean for the Jedi. She had a good idea that Revan would not treat the new prisoner as nicely as he did her, and she took a silent vow to make her Jedi companion's captivity as bearable as possible.

Everything was in absolute chaos when they reached the hangar from the transport ship's explosion, just how Revan needed it to be for them to slip by relatively unnoticed. A single guard tried to stop them and Revan didn't so much as pause as he thrust his stiff palm upwards, smashing it into the guard's face. The man went down immediately, unconscious or dead, Bastila wasn't sure, and Revan barked at Helena to identify her ship and open it up. Bastila's mother complied and the Dark Lord hopped up on the exit ramp before it was fully lowered, helping Helena, Bastila, and Sante up on it as it dipped down. When they were securely inside Helena smacked the panel that closed the exit ramp and moved immediately toward the direction of the cockpit.

"Ryric!" she screeched.

"Mother, what the hell is going on?" a surprisingly deep, though still clearly adolescent, voice called back.

"It doesn't matter – get us out of here, now!" the mother yelled back. The ship jolted to life a few moments later but no one relaxed until they were safely in the strong, silent embrace of open space. For a few long moments no one said a thing. Finally, clearing his throat slightly, the Dark Lord broke the silence.

"I suppose now would be a good time to ask who Ryric is?" he inquired a little stiffly.

Helena gave him a muted glare. "He's my son," she answered just as coolly.

"He can be trusted?"

"Ryric is no fool," Helena replied. "A little headstrong, perhaps, but he isn't an idiot."

"Good." Revan turned and walked in the direction of the cockpit, finding it with relative ease and discovering the young boy within. He was met with a powerful, distrustful glare.

"Who're you?" Ryric demanded, suspicion heavy in his words.

"I protect your sister and I just saved your mother – you'd be smart to shut up and do what I say," the Dark Lord answered as he slid into the co-pilot's seat. After a brief perusal of the instrument panel, Revan punched in the coordinates that would take them back to his ship and he sent a message through his personal channel explaining that he would be returning on a different ship. Erasing the channel from the ship's memory bank, Revan glanced at the boy next to him as he stood, seeing him still glowering in his pilot's chair. "Let the autopilot do the work, but stay here and watch it. If something goes wrong, it would be in your best interest to let me know," he said as he exited the cockpit, searching through the Force to find where everyone was on the ship.

They had all gathered in the main hold – Sante slumped against the wall on the ground, HK in a corner with the Jedi unconscious on the floor, and Helena across from him – and Revan chose a seat next to Bastila, feeling better about everything when he was close to her. The female Jedi was absolutely exhausted from the day's events: finding out her father was dead, discovering his body, being attacked…it was all a little much. The adrenaline had drained from her system leaving her cold and weak, and she let her head slump pathetically against Revan's shoulder, his warm skin wonderful to her shivering body. Glancing down, the Dark Lord was surprised but not repulsed by the contact, and knowing that he needed to appear normal, if a little affectionate to Bastila with her mother around, he let himself do what he honestly wanted to do: shifting his arm so that it was around her shoulders, Revan pulled Bastila closer and moved to let her rest her head on his chest, giving her more access to him and his warmth. The Jedi, almost asleep by this time anyway, gratefully nestled herself closer to him and dropped off into unconsciousness soon after.

Looking up, the Dark Lord realized Helena was scrutinizing him, and he gazed calmly back at her while wondering what she was thinking.

"You have two lightsabers on your belt," the older woman said slowly, "so I'm going to assume that means you're a Force adept."

Revan gave a slight smile. "You would be correct."

Helena nodded. "Would it be wise to ask whether or not you're a Jedi, like my daughter?"

The Dark Lord's smile disappeared, and he exhaled heavily. "I was, once. I'm not anymore," he offered. There was little need to lie to Helena – she was about to be given a horrid shock when they reached his ship, as there would be no way to conceal his Dark Lord status from her at that point; Revan figured that being open and honest with the mother until then might help everything go a little more smoothly when that time came.

The older woman's brows furrowed lightly, making little creases in her forehead. "Why?" she inquired in a soft, curious way.

Revan leaned back and shifted Bastila slightly, still keeping a hold of her. "I had a disagreement with them, so I left."

A dry smile curved Helena's lips. "Not very talkative, are you?"

He snorted slightly. "It's not that. I just have a lot on my mind, and I don't know how much to tell you. My past isn't exactly pretty."

The mother crossed her arms and sat back as well, the smile still on her face. "I've met many types of men in my lifetime young man, so believe me when I say your past won't shock me. You don't have to tell me everything you've done, but at least do an old woman a favor and properly answer her questions, hm?"

Revan laughed breathily once, finding that though Helena could be disagreeable sometimes, he rather liked her. "Yes ma'am," he replied, his green-grey eyes sparkling with a muted humor.

"Wonderful. I'll begin the interrogation," she said with a larger smile. "My daughter seems to know you very well, yet she hasn't mentioned your name once. What is it?"

Revan gave a sort of "no-no" smile and shook his head. "That, I won't answer yet."

"And why not?"

"Because I need you to get me back to my ship. I can't have anything compromise that."

Helena's gaze was penetrating as she examined him again. "I'm going to hazard a guess I won't like it when I find out who you are," she stated.

Revan laughed again, though it wasn't a humorous laugh. "Quite probably."

"Lovely," Helena muttered. "What are you then, a murderer?"

"I've been called that, yes."

"A convict?"

"No. P.O.W. at one point, but I've never served a real prison term."

"Which war, this one, or the Mandalorian Wars?"

"Mandalorian."

"And you were a Jedi at one point?" Helena was trying to piece this all together as she received answers, and the picture she was getting was not pleasing.

"Yes," he answered.

"But you left them."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because of the Mandalorian Wars. I wanted to fight; they didn't. So I left, and I fought."

"Were you a distinguished person in the war?" the mother asked, thinking maybe she could figure out who he was by such a question.

"Depends on your definition of 'distinguished'," Revan tactfully answered. She was rather good, but he wasn't going to let his identity be known yet.

"And you fought on the side of the Republic, correct?"

"I did."

Helena paused, musing over what she had learned so far. The man in front of her, holding Bastila in his arms, had been a Jedi at one point, left to fight in the Mandalorian Wars, had been a prisoner of war during some of that time, and admitted that he had been called a murderer. A growing suspicion was worming its way into Helena's head. Nearly all who had defected from the Jedi to fight in the Mandalorian Wars had pledged allegiance to Revan when he turned on the Republic and declared himself a Sith Lord.

"Why have you been called a murderer?"

"Why?" Revan repeated. "Because of my actions at the end of the Mandalorian Wars and in this war."

"What did you do?"

Revan's smile was a little dark. "That is something you don't need to know about me."

"You're holding my daughter – I think I'd like to know," Helena retorted firmly.

Revan looked down at Bastila for a moment and then back up at her mother. "It doesn't matter what I've done in my life, Mrs. Shan," he said, "because I will never harm your daughter. She is incredibly valuable to me, and I need her alive."

"So you want to _use_ her?" the mother demanded, not liking his answer or his choice of words.

The young man sighed and let his head rest back against the cool metal of the ship. This is where things were going to get tricky – he could be an asshole and infuriate Helena by being cold and calculating when talking about Bastila, or, he could attempt to actually articulate his feelings, something he hadn't done in a long while. Either option was viable. The second made him vulnerable if any of his enemies decided to capture Bastila's family in an effort to get her back somehow, but knowing the Jedi like he did, Revan was aware that they would not do such a thing. That meant he really gained nothing by making Helena angry; thus, he chose the second option and spoke very slowly, trying to choose the proper words.

"No, I don't _want_ to use her," he began. "This explanation will be much clearer once we dock with my ship, I promise, and I ask that you not let anger or outrage blind you when you do find out who I am, because what I am telling you is sincere. If you don't believe me, you can talk to Bastila once we've docked, and I am fairly confident she will tell you I am no deceitful man." Revan took a breath. "I don't know if you are aware of it, but your daughter has a very special gift. It's called 'Battle Meditation', and it is a very powerful skill in the Force. Very few people have ever been gifted with such a skill – and by that I mean perhaps only one or two other recorded persons in history – and this makes her an incredible asset during this war."

Helena spoke as Revan took another pause. "Why do I get the feeling that taking Bastila back to the Jedi isn't on your list of priorities? You're a Sith, aren't you? And an important one, I would venture to guess," she said, confident her assumption was correct.

"Because it isn't," he replied. "I'm not on the Jedi's side in this war, and for good reason. They are foolish, ignorant, and set in ancient ways that will make the entire galaxy susceptible to destruction – we don't want that to happen."

"You say 'we.' So you _are_ a Sith?"

Revan leveled a stiff look at her. "If I am not with the Jedi, then I believe it is apparent I am with the Sith," he replied in an almost condescending way, annoyed now with Helena's questioning.

For the first time, it struck Helena that her daughter could easily be dead if she had ended up in different hands. She posed a question that brought a cold feeling of dread to her heart. "Bastila is a Jedi – why haven't you killed her?" Something almost like pain flickered over the features of the young man Helena was watching, and this confused her a little bit; she listened very carefully as he spoke.

"As a whole, we haven't tried to see her killed because of the truly unique nature of her Force abilities. I have never personally wanted to kill Bastila," Revan added slowly and with emphasis. "She is technically my enemy, and I hers, but I have never wanted to end her life. In the beginning it was purely because I knew she would be a very powerful bartering tool if we needed something from the Jedi, but my feelings have quite evolved since then, though my desire to keep her alive has not."

"Why don't you want to kill her, then?" the mother asked though she already had a good inkling of the answer.

He caught the personal nature of this inquiry and answered accordingly. "Bastila has become a very important personal asset," Revan told Helena, again speaking tactfully. "Since she has come into my charge, certain events have occurred that have rendered us in a relationship that is…closer than what business requires, and much less than what intimate involvement calls for."

"That's very vague and tells me almost nothing," the older woman said in a tone that conveyed some irritation.

The Dark Lord sighed. "Suffice yourself to knowing that I care about your daughter enough to jeopardize my own life for her safety and I count hers a much more valuable item than my own. We Sith are not as barbaric as you think."

"So she means something to you," Helena repeated in simpler terms, wanting to get a very clear affirmative from him on this, tired of his vague, impersonal deflections.

Revan almost wearily met Helena's piercing blue eyes. "Those words touch on the truth," he answered quietly. She wasn't satisfied with that answer, but she knew he wouldn't give more.

"But you're her enemy."

He snorted softly. "Yes – the irony is thick almost to the point of being suffocating, I know."

Helena smiled briefly at his words. "How does Bastila feel about you – or do you even know?" the mother asked since she could not speak with her own daughter at the moment.

Revan's eyes showed apprehension and doubt. "I'm…not sure," he said haltingly. "Bastila has saved my life twice during the course of time she's been in my charge, so I would assume she cares about me to some extent," was all the Dark Lord offered. Bastila shifted and groaned at that moment, and Revan looked down, a displeased expression on his face; Bastila needed a bed, not a hard metal bench and his body. "Where are the sleeping quarters?" he asked, looking back up at Helena.

"Down that hall and to the left."

Revan nodded his thanks and scooped Bastila up easily, her weight light in his arms as he carried her to a bed. Gently propping her up on one of his knees and one arm as he dragged the sheets back, Revan set the young woman down and was about to let her go when he felt her hand on his neck, sliding into his hair. His pulse spiked and his breathing became shallower immediately, and he shifted his gaze to her face. Bastila's blue-grey eyes were open, though they looked a little unfocused.

"What's going on?" she murmured sleepily, obviously still exhausted though her grip on his head was surprisingly strong. Bastila's mind groggily alerted her that Revan's face was perilously close to her own but she was too weary to do anything about it.

"Nothing. I'm putting you in a bed while your mother interrogates me," the man answered quietly.

Bastila's eyes closed slowly as she snorted breathily. "Sorry about that."

"I'll live. Go back to sleep," he told her, grasping for her hand to get her to let go and relax. When he did this, however, her grip increased and pulled down a fraction, surprising him. Revan leaned down a little more to comply with her tug, and he stopped breathing as Bastila's eyes opened and looked directly into his own. He felt bare, laid open by their intense, shared gaze, but something forced him to stay there and allow Bastila to see whatever it was that she wanted.

All Bastila knew was that before she let the darkness take over again she wanted to see those green-grey eyes that meant so much to her now, in such complicated, confusing ways. Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to speak, and Revan ached to lean down and press his own lips against hers and taste her. Bastila was thinking much the same thing, though in much less clear terms, but the desire was still there. Revan was about to go against his better judgement and give in to the need that gripped him when he distinctly felt the air in the room shift. Someone else had entered, and his focus changed due to this newcomer.

Smoothly, the Dark Lord gave Bastila a soft but firm look and set her hand down on the bed as if she was asleep. Understanding, the female Jedi closed her eyes and acted the part to perfection. Revan moved silently and methodically, making it appear that he was trying not to wake her. Giving her body a perusal with his eyes, he frowned. She still had boots on – that would not do. Kneeling by her legs he deftly undid the clasps on one brown boot, working it off slowly and setting it aside, giving her foot a very brief, five second rub to return proper circulation and ease any pain. Doing the same for her other foot, Revan put her boots at the foot of her bed, and glanced over her again. Her belt likely would not be comfortable as it had a weapon and many little pouches on it. Sliding it apart and gently working it out from beneath her, he draped it over her boots and was finally satisfied with her state of 'unconsciousness.' Revan pulled the sheet up to just below her breasts and finally turned, affecting a very slightly surprised look on his face to see Helena in the doorway. Walking quietly over to her, he halted.

"Yes?" he asked in a low voice.

Helena looked behind him to where her daughter lay and then back at Revan. He had been very gentle with her, almost loving, and this made her wonder. "Still asleep?"

The young man's eyes softened. "Completely," he said in honesty, as Bastila's aura in the Force told him she had slipped back into slumber.

Ryric's voice suddenly shattered the serenity that had descended upon the ship and its inhabitants. "Mother! He's taking us to a Sith cruiser!"

Helena watched the face of the man in front of her change from sincerely soft and gentle to cold and angry within a split second, and a deep fear settled in her gut. What kind of man was this? She heard a low growl emanate from him before he spoke.

"Your son needs to learn when to keep his mouth shut, Mrs. Shan," Revan said icily, gently pushing past her and walking briskly towards the cockpit.

Helena lunged for him and grabbed Revan's arm with a desperate grip. "Please don't hurt him – he's only sixteen," she begged, knowing that she was powerless against this man from a physical standpoint. She had also been recently deprived of a husband and thus didn't quite have the same emotional strength she usually carried.

The Dark Lord stopped, surprised, and his eyes showed this to Helena. "I had no intention of hurting the boy," he said truthfully, placating her, gently prying the mother's hand off his arm. "I have no intention of harming any of you – I just need to make sure he doesn't change the ship's course."

The older woman let him go, praying he was being completely honest and didn't want to hurt her or her son. She followed him to the cockpit and saw a very irate and frightened Ryric standing and pacing the hallways just outside the cockpit. Helena pulled him into a fierce hug and her young son showed concern when he pulled back.

"Are you all right? He didn't try to hurt you, did he?"

Helena shook her head and smiled as she realized her son was emulating his father: trying to be the strong one in a bad situation. "No, Ryric – he hasn't tried to hurt me. I just missed you, is all. It's been…a very stressful day," she said, trying not to worry her son too much.

Revan, meanwhile, was in the pilot's chair, guiding the Shans' ship into the docking bay of his. When they were settled, the Sith Lord emerged and gave Helena a very grave look. "Please obey me when I tell you to stay on your ship for now. It is paramount that you do this, for everyone's safety."

"Is he right?" the mother asked.

Revan nodded, feeling now was the time to reveal the true nature of his position as a Sith to Helena. "This is my ship. In fact, every Sith cruiser you see is my ship."

A look of understanding slowly cleared Helena's clouded brow and everything in her mind that he had said before in response to her questions clicked into place. "No…" she breathed, not quite able to fathom it.

Revan's smile was almost sad. He had probed her mind gently and seen she had come to the correct conclusion about his identity. "Now you know my name," he almost whispered. He exited the ship, giving in to his paranoia and covering his face first, conversing with the guards in the hangar bay and explaining to them the situation in the barest terms possible: he had brought another prisoner back and two guests, a mother and son, and those two were to be treated with the same care as Bastila was treated with. The prisoner, the Jedi, was to be tossed in a holding cell and guarded at all times, but not touched. He told them to get Sante to a med bay and to leave the prisoners to him. Revan and two guards returned to the Shans' ship and didn't speak as he passed Helena and Ryric.

"Sante, this guard will help get you to a med bay." Revan glanced at said guard. "Help him walk."

"Sir," the guard said with a military nod, going immediately about his task.

Revan instructed the other guard to show HK exactly where he wanted the Jedi, and then entered the room in which Bastila was sleeping, pulling his facemask down as he went. For some reason, he didn't like covering his face around the female Jedi. Softly shaking the young woman's shoulder, he waited for her to become awake enough to understand him.

"Hm?" she asked, rubbing her face and sitting up, the sheet sliding down to her hips as she did so. Revan couldn't help but think how sexy that looked and sounded, and how much more it would be if there was less clothing involved.

"We've docked. You'll likely need to talk your mother off the ledge – she knows who I am."

Bastila winced and sighed, pushing the sheets back and setting her socked feet down on the metal floor. She looked at them as if confused. "Where are my boots?" Revan leaned over and grabbed them, setting them next to her feet. She lifted her eyes to his face. "That was you that took them off?"

Revan nodded, giving a short "mmhm" in response.

Bastila felt the tips of her ears redden. "And…you were the one who rubbed my feet?"

Revan raised a brow, wondering where she was going with these questions. "Yes…" he said slowly. "You were awake when I did all of this…"

"I know, I just…thought I was dreaming it," she explained. Her father had often given her foot rubs before bed, and so it was a soothing, intimate thing for her, and it made her feel very safe and at home. Bastila pulled on her boots and buckled them, grabbing her belt and putting it on again. Revan watched her as she dressed and made her feel self-conscious.

"Your mother'll probably interrogate you too," he said after a few moments, breaking the silence between them. "And if she starts going off about how I'm madly in love with you, she's exaggerating."

Bastila turned to Revan and raised a thin, dark brow, a suspicious, almost deviously amused smile curving her lips. "Just what did you and my mother talk about, Revan?"

Revan felt a little hot, and crossed his arms in a disgruntled manner. "I told you, she interrogated me. She asked me a lot of questions, many of them pertaining to my 'relationship' with you," he explained.

"And what did you say?" Bastila pressed, half wanting to know out of curiosity how Revan viewed their interaction and half wanting to know so that she could prepare herself for her mother.

The Sith Lord glared very softly at her. "I told her that I would put myself in harm's way for you and that your life is rather more valuable to me than my own. Nothing you don't already know," he answered.

"How sweet of you," the female Jedi responded almost sarcastically in response to his tone, but tempered it with a soft smile, toying with him a little. She enjoyed catching Revan in moments of embarrassment like this – it made him so much more human and it was honestly quite adorable. Part of her mind scolded her for such thoughts, but Bastila had been slowly ignoring this voice more and more, and it was fainter now, like a nagging sense of conscience that was almost beaten. Besides, she reasoned, it wasn't bad to enjoy making Revan human – he _was_ human. What was there against trying to relate to him? Surely even the Jedi couldn't fault her for such a thing; even they tried to connect with enemies and those who opposed the Order – it was the Jedi way, to try and reason with someone before resorting to things such as violence.

Revan grunted lightly, but a truly devious grin curved his lips. "I'm full of surprises," he rumbled, his voice sliding easily into the growl Bastila found, against her will, to be very sensual.

"Yes," she responded almost distractedly, "I've noticed."

The Sith Lord gave a quiet "hm" and swiveled his head to look at the door for a second. "I'm going to put your family in a room like yours directly across the hall. They'll be given the same treatment you receive, with a few more restrictions. This is acceptable?" Bastila heard Revan say, his last words a question but said in the manner of a statement that was unarguable. The young woman nodded and rubbed her palm with her thumb, one of her restless gestures. The Dark Lord set a large hand gently on her shoulder. "Bastila, I promise you no harm will come to them. I have no desire to take your family away from you."

Revan was very surprised when he felt her arms slide around his neck and pull him down into a hug, pressing their bodies together lightly. He cautiously returned the embrace and gave Bastila a very confused look when she had stepped away from him again. "What was that for?" he asked.

She gave him an unreadable smile. "Thank you for bringing me with you. If you had listened to me saying that I didn't want to come and see my mother I never would have known of my father's fate, of my mother's true intentions, and of my brother that I've never met," Bastila explained, letting her pride fade away for a few moments.

Not expecting any of this from the woman in front of him, Revan stared at her in soft shock for a second or so. "I'm not a completely callous bastard," he finally said, eliciting a soft laugh from the woman in front of him.

"I know that, Revan," she said calmly, her accent making her words soft and soothing.

He felt so confused and mentally outmaneuvered that he had no idea what to say. Since when was Bastila this…_nice_ to him? First a hug, then a sincere, humble thank you, and finally an admittance that she saw he wasn't a total bastard? Revan could deal with one of these at a time, but not all at once – it was too much for him to handle. He didn't know how to properly respond to it all; he didn't know how to be that gentle and open, and he didn't feel he _could_ be – he would just put himself in the perfect position to get stabbed in the back.

"Your family's probably wondering what I'm doing to you in here," he said after a silence and he rubbed the back of his neck, his nervous tic.

Bastila noticed this and wondered why he was so taken aback by her actions. Yes, they were a little more forward than what she normally tried to do to get him to open up, but he had done her a great service by forcing her to come along, and he deserved her thanks. Deciding to ignore her perplexity over Revan's responses, she nodded and started walking towards the door.

"I'd best let mother know I'm alive and well," she sighed.

"Your brother too; he might try to strangle me at any moment. We didn't get off to the best start," the Dark Lord remarked sardonically. "Perhaps you'll have better luck."

Bastila nodded again, nervous. She had never even seen her brother before – what did he look like? How tall was he? Did he look like her? Like father or mother? What was he like? Quiet and calm? Rowdy? So many questions bombarded her brain that she barely noticed anything until her vision alerted her that her mother was near.

"Bastila!" Helena said with obvious relief. "I was…worried," she said slowly, giving a very cautious glance to Revan. The young man ignored it, used to these displays of fear. He was a little irked though, as he had promised Helena he would never harm Bastila, and even admitted that he cared about her daughter to enough of an extent to die for the young woman. Did that mean nothing? He frowned behind his facemask he had readjusted to cover himself but stayed silent.

Bastila, being acutely attuned to Revan, gave her mother a muted look of disappointment. "Mother, I'm perfectly safe," she said a little coolly. Helena gave an apologetic look but didn't say anything.

Ryric grunted. "Yeah, rooming with a Sith Lord's _real_ safe," he grumbled.

Bastila glared at her brother. "I do not _room_ with him, thank you," she snapped back. She could see why he and Revan didn't get along – Ryric had quite the opinionated personality, much like herself and her mother. Whereas Helena and Bastila knew when it was prudent to keep quiet, Ryric was quite a bit more bullheaded and nowhere near as tactful. Miraculously, however, he had no retort for Bastila's comeback and so an incredibly tense situation was avoided.

Helena gave her son scathing glare. "Ryric, is that any way to treat the sister you've never seen?" she scolded so fiercely that her son cringed. "Caedmon would be ashamed of you."

He hung his head as Helena stung him with the insult that his father would be ashamed of his behavior. "No," he said quietly, barely able to look at his sister. "Sorry," he apologized sincerely.

Bastila gave her brother a patient smile and nodded in acceptance of the apology, taking a moment to look at the teenager. His hair was dark brown, like hers – like their father's – and a little shaggy, coming down almost to his eyebrows on his forehead. He was tall for his age, about five feet eleven inches, and a little lanky. Ryric's face showed no signs of the lingering 'baby fat' of pre-adolescence, being angular and strong. Bastila noticed her brother's eyes were an amalgam of greenish hazel, just like their father's. In fact, Bastila saw that her brother was, in appearance, like a younger version of Caedmon. It hurt a little to look at Ryic and be reminded of her father, but her brother's personality was so contrary to Caedmon's that it wasn't too difficult to distinguish the two men.

"We should get you settled in," Revan said, breaking the short silence that had fallen among the group.

Helena took a slightly shaky breath and looked at the man who held her daughter in his possession. "How long will we be…kept here?" she asked, trying to word her statement carefully.

Revan noted this and was grateful. "I don't want you to become targets. I don't know how much information the Jedi have at the moment, and seeing as they just tried to take Bastila back by force with the added help of mercenaries, I'm not sure how safe it is to be out on your own."

Helena nodded, feeling that she could trust Revan enough to believe him. "Thank you, then, for that."

Revan gave a short nod back. "I can't give you an estimate of the time you'll be spending here because I don't know how the state of things will change. It may calm down, or it may become more volatile – I can't tell you for sure. You will, however, be safest on this ship." The Sith Lord waved his hand around, indicating their ship as well. "Your ship will remain in here and will be well cared for, and you will be able to access it at any time for whatever you wish. I won't let you carry weapons around, but if your son likes to tinker with things, I can arrange something. I don't mind trying to be accommodating, and I do wish for your stay to be as pleasant as possible."

The mother sighed. "All right; thank you. Will we be near Bastila? Or is that not allowed?"

"No, you'll be near Bastila – right across the hall from her. I would ask, however, that you try not to visit her room too often and always knock before entering; keeping family groupings to your room would be better."

Helena was confused by this request but prepared to comply with it if it made life easier for them all. "Are we to go there now?"

"Yes. Follow me."

The Dark Lord exited the ship and stepped out into the hangar bay of his cruiser, walking with authority and a powerful grace as he navigated the corridors of his ship and brought Bastila's family to their room. Ryric noted that every Sith soldier was immaculately dressed and gave a deferential head-bow to Revan as he passed.

"Here is your room," Revan said as he opened the door and motioned inside of it. "That," he pointed to a door across the way and a few feet down, "is Bastila's door. Down this hallway and to the left at the first junction is the mess hall and to the right is the training room. If you go all the way down to the elevator, take it down to the hangar bay level, and make an immediate right out of the elevator, you'll find your ship easily. If you get lost, ask someone for directions. There are often guests on my ships and important people, so my soldiers should be polite. If they don't seem to be polite initially, tell them you're personal guests of mine and that should straighten them out. If they don't, get their names and tell me; I'll make sure they don't make the same mistake again," Revan explained. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some cleaning up to do."

The Dark Lord headed straight for his room's refresher, in dire need of a soothing shower. Once clean, he dressed himself in the usual pair of loose black pants and his robe, and checked the status of his army. The past two months had been a lull in the ship-to-ship fighting, but Revan knew eventually his ship would be caught up in a fierce battle once more, and that was when he feared for the safety of Bastila and her family the most.

Bastila, meanwhile, was trying to help her mother and brother transition to their new life on Revan's ship. Helena was standing in their room messing with part of her shirt anxiously while Ryric was sitting on the edge of a dresser looking sullen but cautiously curious about his surroundings.

"How long have you been with him?" the female Jedi heard her mother ask quietly.

"You make it sound like I'm sharing a bed with him," she answered icily.

"Are you?"

Bastila sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying not to lose her temper. "No, mother, I am not," she replied stiffly.

"All right," Helena said in a calming, assuaging tone. "I don't know anything, it seems, so I have to ask every question." She sighed. "So how long?"

Bastila shrugged. "I've lost track of the time. Three months, more or less? I'm honestly not sure. I stopped counting the days a long time ago."

Her mother nodded, still fingering her shirt, gazing off into space. "You're his prisoner?"

Bastila nodded. "Technically, yes."

"Technically?"

She sighed. "Revan doesn't treat me like a prisoner, usually. It's a rather convenient misnomer."

"What does he treat you like?" her brother inquired, still a little suspicious about everything.

Bastila thought for a moment and bit her bottom lip. "I…don't know if I can properly describe it. I am restricted in certain ways, but it…works out somehow. He doesn't want me interacting with his soldiers and I don't want to. He doesn't particularly want me wandering around his ship alone, and I don't want to. I'm not to try and contact the Jedi, and I honestly don't know how much help it would be if I could – they obviously know I'm alive, as Tatooine showed, but yet I'm still here with Revan. He doesn't want me trying to escape – where would I go if I did?" The young woman shrugged lightly. "I'm not treated like a prisoner. I can go around the ship where I wish, I can eat when I want to, sleep when I want to, use his library, the training room, study his war tactics…the only thing I am absolutely restricted from doing is using the Force."

"Why not?" Ryric popped in again.

"Because Force-adepts can get a good idea of the location of other Force-adepts when they tap into the Force. It's like a homing beacon."

"Cool."

Bastila smiled at her little brother's response.

"So…he's never tortured you?"

She shook her head. "No, never."

"Ever harmed you at all?" Bastila hesitated and Ryric's face darkened. "He has," he said coldly, tense.

The young Jedi sighed and touched her nose. "Revan has…a violent temper. I set it off and got my nose accidentally broken in return. He healed it immediately after," she said rather objectively, remembering the incident very clearly.

"You're defending him, you realize that, right?" her brother asked incredulously.

Bastila shot a glare at her brother. "I am not. I told you what happened – he backhanded me in anger and broke my nose. How is that defending him?"

"'Accidentally broken'? He's a Sith Lord. He's evil. I doubt he would 'accidentally' break your nose," he rejoined.

"You're being quite immature, Ryric. I'm not going to argue with you."

The young man grunted sullenly. "I just don't get it."

Helena glared her son into silence and turned to her daughter. "Intentional or not, he still hit you," she said evenly, though Bastila could detect tightly controlled anger.

"Yes, he hit me."

"Was that the only time?"

"Yes," she was able to answer honestly. Revan had choked her and somewhat crunched her wrist, but never hit her at any other time.

Helena sighed and spoke again. "Why do you think he treats you as he does?"

"I don't know. He's made it very clear to me that he doesn't see me as something to barter with; he doesn't view me as an object." She paused. "Revan's told me that he respects me, so I would assume that is why I'm not demeaned like a prisoner," Bastila explained in the barest manner possible. She didn't think it wise to bring hers or Revan's emotions into this discussion with her family. Those emotions were personal and she wasn't sure of how either of them felt about nearly anything, really.

Having fallen silent for a short period of time, Bastila's mother sighed again and a tight, almost grim smile molded her lips. "What a way to have a family reunion…" she trailed. Walking over and embracing her daughter, Helena kissed both of Bastila's cheeks and sought out her daughter's blue-grey eyes with her duller blue ones, their shine having been lost with the passing of her husband. "I'm proud of you, Bastila. A lesser woman would have broken long ago; you're strong, like the Shans always are. Caedmon would be proud, too," she said quietly, setting her hands on Bastila's shoulders firmly for a moment and then letting go and backing up. Looking around in a way that Bastila almost thought seemed lost, Helena's grim smile returned. "Ryric and I should get settled in, dear. You should go rest – you've had a tough day."

Hesitating for a moment, then young woman reached out and grasped her mother's hand in a gesture of comfort and strength, then silently departed, returning to her own room. It was…comforting to be home again – and this room was home now. Bastila took a slow, relaxing shower and dressed herself in comfortable sleep clothes, ready to just climb into her luxuriously soft mattress and go dead to the world. She tried this but could not drift off and she had a good idea why. It had become habit to see Revan before she went to bed, and she was attempting to break this habit, something her body did not approve of. With a bit of a smile at her own failure as a Jedi to keep herself from becoming attached in any way to the man in the room across from her and a sigh as she contemplated what she was ever going to do about this, Bastila quietly slipped into Revan's room and found the Dark Lord sitting at a desk. His dark hair was at its usual messy attention and he seemed alert, if a little tiredly slumped in his chair.

"Revan?" she called gently, causing the man to turn and look at her with a softly surprised expression.

"Yes?" was his reply, and Bastila tried not to smile as she heard his special tone again, the one that meant he was open to talking. As he had turned she had noticed he was wearing an over-robe but no shirt, so his bare torso was half-visible to her. A dark bluish-black mark caught her attention against his pale skin and Bastila furrowed her brows, advancing to him and pushing his robe aside to inspect the mark.

Revan had no idea what was going on, and his breathing came a little quicker, as did his heartbeat. "Well if you want me that badly, I don't think I can say no…" he trailed, earning him a patient glare from the woman in front of him.

"Mature, Revan," she replied a little distractedly as she used her free hand to pull a chair very close to his and sit down.

"I'm sorry – it happens whenever you touch me," the Sith Lord said, meaning it to sound more devious, but it ended up being a bit of a confession.

Bastila only frowned at him and caused him to inhale through his teeth – and not necessarily from pain – as she rubbed her fingertips lightly against the discolored skin just underneath his right pectoral. "When did this happen?" she asked, her medical training taking over.

Revan looked down and inspected himself, touching the bruise as well. "I…don't know…" he admitted. It hurt like crap now that Bastila had pointed it out, but he hadn't noticed it before. "During the battle? I'm not sure. I didn't feel it."

"You wouldn't feel it if you got hit by a Starcruiser," the female Jedi sighed and looked up into Revan's eyes, seeing a soft amusement flickering in his emerald depths, the flecks of grey in his eyes seeming to make his eyes glitter even more. "You find this funny?" she asked almost flatly.

A low, rumbling, humming chuckle vibrated her hand and came quietly out from between his lips. "A little, yes," he admitted.

Bastila shook her head and couldn't help but smile at Revan, thinking for a moment that if he had not become a Sith Lord she probably would have found him the most charming, handsome, polite Jedi that ever existed and likely would have had a problem keeping their relationship professional – much like she now found him the most charming, handsome, polite Sith Lord that ever existed and she was having trouble keeping their relationship professional. The 'trouble' was that, so far removed from her Jedi Order and their teaching, Bastila found she didn't _want_ to force herself to keep her relationship with Revan professional. She found that, so far removed from her Jedi Order, she was thinking more like a young woman her age than she ever had before.

"You're absolutely impossible," she said as she shook her head.

"Hn, yes, you've told me that many times before."

"Until you cease being impossible, I will continue to remind you of it."

Revan snorted softly. "Why thank you." A breath hissed in through his teeth. "Ow," he growled.

"Sorry," Bastila apologized; letting up on the pressure she had put on his bruise, she frowned. "You might have a broken rib."

The Sith Lord took a large inhale and held it, letting it out and wincing only slightly. "No. If I did, I wouldn't have been able to do that."

"It isn't feasible you'd be able to inhale like that, but it is possible. What matters is how much that hurt," she said, lightly pressing around on the bruise again to see if she could feel any clear signs of a break.

Revan shrugged lightly. "It felt tight, almost like someone had just knocked the wind out of me. Otherwise, very little pain."

Bastila nodded at his answer, inspecting the bruise still. Pushing his robe further aside she accidentally forced it off his right shoulder and she paused to gauge Revan's reaction. He was calmly watching her, his eyes still catching the light and gleaming in a low, seductive way causing Bastila to hold her breath. She hated it when they did that – she couldn't resist or ignore the tingling warmth that his eyes, looking at her like that, caused to spread through her body. Revan seemed to be having the opposite reaction, however, as she saw goosebumps bloom in a wave across his chest, shoulder and arm.

"You're cold?"

Revan looked down at himself with an almost naughtily amused smile. "I think that's very apparent."

Bastila didn't get his innuendo until she followed his eyes to his chest, seeing that his nipples were hard in combination with the goosebumps. "Impossible," she muttered again with roll of her eyes as she returned her full attention to his bruise, ignoring the strong, curious urge to touch his nipples. The blackish-blue area extended up the right side of his chest some, over his side and to his back, fanning out over his shoulder blade and finally ending. "What did you _do_?" Bastila murmured, shaking her head, the pads of her fingers sliding lightly over wherever his bruise went.

"Hauled ass out of the way of a grenade," Revan answered, remembering the only plausible point in the battle in which he could have sustained this injury. He was having trouble concentrating though, as Bastila's rubbing was turning his body on and giving him a bit of a problem.

The Jedi snorted. "Well that might have done it," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. Bastila looked up at him with a sigh. "I'm going to heal this for you, since you seem quite content to forgo the action yourself."

Revan smirked a little. "Please, be my guest."

She glared at him and placed both of her hands on his chest, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. Revan wasn't afraid of her using the Force – she was too close to his Force signature, mingling hers with his, and healing did not become apparent through the Force in the same way that other actions did. Healing affected another person's body to knit it back together, make it whole, gently nudging the Force in one direction; other Force powers disrupted and altered the flow of the Force much more noticeably.

Revan watched Bastila, seeing how she took a few slow moments to breathe deeply and completely relax before tapping into the Force. He felt the usual tingling that accompanied an influx of Force energy but only subconsciously. He was enraptured with the woman in front of him, allowing himself to become so since she was so engrossed in her own task. Bastila's eyes were still closed, her brows gently knitted together in concentration and her lips softly parted for her to breathe through. Revan's body tightened from the impulsive thought that ran through his head, from the arousal it garnered as well as the fear. He was so tired of ignoring this thought, this want, this need; he shifted forward gradually, mindful not to break Bastila's concentration. She was healing him slowly, making sure to fix every cell of his injury, and this was very much to his advantage.

Pausing and gauging all of the possible horrible reactions she might have to what he was about to do, Revan knew they paled in comparison to how much he _needed_ to sate this desire. Why was he so afraid of this anyway? He knew what her reaction would be – it was what it had to be. He was prepared for it, so why was he hesitating? Perhaps, he mused, because this wasn't something he did often; he almost never shared this with any of the 'guests' he entertained. With a soft grunt he silenced his thoughts and sealed his fate.

Leaning forward again Revan cocked his head to the side and softly pressed his lips against Bastila's parted ones, relaxing immediately, as if he had been in pain and it was now soothed away. He heard her inhale sharply through her nose and the warmth of her slightly desert-chapped lips disappeared from his own as she jerked her face back from his, her eyes open wide with shock. Revan had kept his open the entire time and gazed into Bastila's blue-grey depths – and they were an amalgam of blue and grey; this he was finally able to confirm – seeing surprise, a small amount of indignation and more pleasure than he had expected. Neither of them spoke as they held each other's eyes, their faces within inches of each other. Bastila's hands were still on his chest, putting a light, satisfying pressure against his body as Revan leaned forward again, not to be denied this time.

Bastila didn't pull away – too much of her wanted this to let her pull away. Revan's mouth gently claimed hers again and her hands slid up his chest, one of them burying itself in his thick, soft dark hair at the base of his neck, the other gripping him lightly as he kissed her. Every single nerve ending was alive with energy in her body and a pulsing ache was thrumming low in her gut, shocking her with its intensity. Bastila had not been prepared for how good kissing Revan would feel, nor had she been prepared for how much her body would respond to him. He smelled so good…and he was so warm and strong… Somehow, Bastila's mind wondered how she had ever resisted him in the first place.

Revan felt almost drugged from the pleasure of Bastila's full lips molded to his, not unresponsive like he had feared they might be. His body, like hers, hadn't exactly been prepared for how much of a response this single intimate action would garner, and a soft, breathy, near inaudible groan escaped through his nose at the wonderful, pulsing burn that coursed through every centimeter of him, coiling in his gut and settling deep and low in his groin. It had been a long while since Revan had truly kissed anyone, as he avoided it with the women who visited his room if at all possible, and he found this single kiss with Bastila to be almost more satisfying than any other pleasurable thing he could remember.

Revan pulled back very slowly, wishing to prolong this moment as long as he could, keeping their lips touching for as much time as possible. Bastila perceived this and almost whimpered at the overwhelmingly strong sense of pleasurable tension that he created by doing this, drawing out this forbidden moment while slowly returning her rational mind to her with each fraction of a centimeter he pulled away. When the kiss was finally broken, Bastila found herself gazing directly into Revan's smoky green depths.

Oh, Force…what had she done now?


	12. Chapter 12

All righty...so...I think it's apparent I'm alive, though you might wish to kill me due to my absence. Again, I apologize profusely. College is...heh, well...quite the time consumer. At this point, I really don't know when I'll be able to work on things and update, so just bear with me. No, I'm not abandoning the story. No, I'm not putting it on hiatus; I'm just going to be rather slow with the updates and things of that sort.

So, with all of that said, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy, and as always, feedback is much appreciated!

Oh and before people think that I'm using the Force just to advance plot (obviously that's a reason), the Force has always been, to me, more than just this...'thing' out there, it's been kind of like an entity that has a will but, but it itself is not the executor of its own will. It's not without a voice to further the 'destiny' of things, basically. So it can 'speak' through another being by prompting/nudging thoughts, giving visions, etc. It's not as complicated as that sounds, I just don't want people thinking that I used the Force to further plot because I couldn't think of anything else - I _wanted_ to use the Force; I like it that way.

I'll shut up now so you can read.

* * *

Bastila didn't know that she could feel so many emotions at once. She was horrified at what she had just done, but at the same time, there was a part of her that felt kissing Revan was the most incredibly enjoyable thing that had ever happened in her austere and simple life. Everyone wanted to know they were desirable and Bastila was no different, Jedi or not. Revan had initiated the kiss and she had returned it – he had wanted her, and she had responded. Bastila was also incredibly confused. Her entire life she had been told that emotions were wrong, that passions were to be overcome with serenity…

Then why had kissing him felt so perfect?

It was hard to think clearly when absolutely calm and gazing into Revan's eyes, much less when her heart was hammering against her chest and her emotions were so very jumbled. His smoky green irises were smoldering intensely making it hard for her to breathe, though perhaps that was a residual effect from when his lips were so wonderfully melded to hers moments ago.

"You kissed me."

His lips curved into a deeply wicked, pleased smirk. "That I did."

"You _kissed_ me," Bastila responded quietly, unable to really think or say anything else.

"You kissed me back," Revan pointed out, his deep, smooth voice carrying traces of his amusement.

She stared at him with that smirk on his face, with those eyes that tempted her to come back for more and could only gaze at him with fractionally parted lips, attesting to how nonplussed she was for a proper response.

Revan's smirk deepened. "I dare say I've rendered you speechless," he said, deviously smug.

Bastila wanted to feel her usual urge to smack the smirk off his handsome face, but she didn't. She didn't know what she was feeling. Grasping for something, anything, Bastila forced her eyes away from Revan's face and looked down, thanking the Force when she noticed his bruise again.

"I wasn't finished healing you," she said, finally beginning to sound like her usual self again, her tone sliding towards patiently annoyed with him. Her blue-grey eyes glared softly into his. "I trust I won't be interrupted this time?" She could do this. She could pull it back together. She would not let him know how much his kiss had unsettled her.

Revan sat back in his chair again and let his amorous inclinations cool, knowing he would not get anything more from Bastila at the moment. "No, no interruptions. I got what I wanted."

Bastila's glare increased as she knew his words were the truth. Revan made it no secret that he desired her and he had often pushed her boundaries. Now he had crossed one, and though it was just a single kiss Bastila knew that Revan enjoyed it even more because of the knowledge that he had, in essence, stolen something she likely would not have given him of her own free will.

"Then be silent and let me finish." Bastila placed a single hand over Revan's now faded bruise and kept her eyes firmly locked to his, warning him not to try anything else as she again pushed the Force through his body, healing his injury. Finished, she stood and looked down at the self-satisfied man in the chair in front of her. "I'm going to bed. Good night," she told him a little stiffly, turning and exiting his room, taking safe haven in hers.

Revan watched her go and didn't bother to try to rationalize the disappointment he felt. He knew he had thoroughly enjoyed kissing her and that he wanted her to stay. He almost always wanted her to stay – she managed to calm him and, at the very least, distract him from the pressure and stress of his job. Taking a moment to replay the past few minutes' events in his head, Revan realized that Bastila had not reacted to his kiss in the way he had expected. He had decided to kiss her thinking that he would receive harsh words and perhaps a slap in return for his bold action – instead, he had been kissed back and she had done nothing to reprimand him.

Interesting.

Turning back to his computer, Revan saw that a new report had been submitted while Bastila had been in his room. It had to do with Malak. Opening the report and perusing its contents, the Dark Lord closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Drawing the hood of his robe up over his head, Revan made his way to the med-bay that Malak was in and silently let himself inside. His apprentice was sitting up and looking around, his yellow-grey eyes alert but clouded with subdued anger.

"Why am I in here?" the apprentice demanded.

Revan pulled up a stool and perched on it, looking over the man in the bed next to him. "On Rhen Var, you hit your head on the transport. You cracked your skull open; you've been in here since."

Malak touched his head, feeling were a bandage was. He remembered now: he had been making his way to the cockpit when they hit turbulence and his head slammed into the wall. "If that pilot's still alive, I'll kill him," the apprentice growled.

"I took care of him," Revan related in a rather bored manner.

"Shame," Malak commented. He would've enjoyed making the man pay. "When can I leave?"

"When the doctor says, I would assume. I haven't spoken with him. They only told me you were awake."

The apprentice set his head back against the bed. "It's a lesser hell to be awake, but a more painful one…"

Revan furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

Opening his eyes, Malak looked at his master and one-time best friend. "The brain has a funny way of bringing back memories you thought you forgot long ago," he said.

The Dark Lord snorted softly. "Those kinds of memories, Malak, no one forgets, even after they think they block them out. I still remember every detail about Malachor."

"What happened down there, Revan? You never did tell me."

Revan stared hard at the floor for a while. "I died," was his only reply. Standing, the Dark Lord walked out of the med-bay, leaving his apprentice alone. Malak watched his Master leave with a detached curiosity. He often wondered how Revan thought of everything that had happened since they both made the life-altering decision to join the fight against the Mandalorians. He wondered if Revan regretted things like he did, and he wondered if the man who used to be his closest friend would have gone back and done things differently if given the chance. Internally, Malak frowned. He had never really known Revan, he reminded himself. There was always something about his friend he had never seen coming, sometimes good, sometimes bad.

What was it that made Revan hide so much? He had always been that way though, the apprentice mused. Revan had always kept to himself, been very private, almost maddeningly so. Malak thought about how he had been drawn to Revan, about how the quiet, confident boy had made him so wholly dedicated to his new friend's cause. The apprentice remembered how he had always been so fascinated with how Revan could speak so easily, so passionately, and draw so many under his wing. The faction had proved that easily. Calling themselves Revanchists, they followed their idol, Revan, without question. In the war, those under Revan pledged themselves to him until death - and they delivered, many perishing in service to their vaunted savior. Little they did they know that their leader would be just as brutal as the very enemy they fought, even from the beginning. Even now, with Revan seemingly betraying the Republic and returning to destroy it, those serving him had amaranthine loyalty.

All except himself, Malak thought. How ironic that he who first followed Revan was now the one who wanted most to dethrone the man who had brought him to where he was. He was _tired_, so very tired of being in Revan's shadow. In everything Revan was first, and he second. In power, in prestige, fame, skill, intelligence, looks, charm - everything, and Malak was sick of it. He wanted to be free. Free of Revan, free of the loathsome title of 'apprentice', free of it all. _He_ wanted to be the Dark Lord. _He _wanted to be the one in power. _He_ wanted the women, the immediate respect, the fear that Revan's title delivered.

A frown settling into his eyes, Malak knew that he had already been so very close to having what he wanted. When Revan's ship had been attacked, he could've let his Master die. He could've let his friend die. But something told him to keep Revan alive, that it wasn't yet time. Malak may have been power hungry, but he wasn't a fool - he would let Revan do the dirty work and set up the empire, make it stable. Then, when the time was right, Malak knew he would strike and take his place as the Dark Lord of the Sith.

Disgusted with being invalid for so long, the apprentice sat up and began removing the IVs and patches that connected him to the machines monitoring his vitals. The machines began to beep frantically, indicating that the patient had flatlined, and a doctor hurriedly rushed in.

"What are you do–augh!" he said, his words cut off by Malak's chokehold through the Force.

"Leaving," he growled, his mechanical voice grating and gruff, contemptuously tossing the doctor across the room as he stalked out of it.

_Worthless fool._

Bastila was staring at herself in the mirror, knowing that she was looking at a different woman now. This woman wasn't sure of who she was or what she believed. This woman didn't know _what_ to believe. A little more than three months ago, she had been the epitome of a perfect Jedi who had fallen into an unfortunate situation, landing in the hands of the Dark Lord of the Sith. Now, she knew she would be an absolute disgrace to the name 'Jedi.'

The emotions she felt, she couldn't ignore. The desires she felt, she couldn't rise above. The things that Revan said, she couldn't refute. The things he did, she couldn't resist.

"You're weak…" Bastila whispered to herself, lowering her head and shutting her eyes. "That's all that he's shown you: you're weak."

Bastila could not make herself deny the fact that she wanted to feel Revan's kiss again, feel his touch one more time. He was the only man ever to have kissed her, and, she thought, darkly amused by this, the only man that could've gotten away with it. Why did he have such power over her?

_Because you lo -_

"No," Bastila said firmly, aloud, silencing that inner voice. It did not matter - it came back. It always did.

_You know you do. It's in your nature._

"I can't…"

_You already do. Now all that remains is to accept it._

"_He_ can't…"

_Who is to say what he can and cannot do? Revan is a mystery. He chooses to do what he wishes. Perhaps he may choose favorably. He _is_ partial to you; you know this too._

"Partiality does not mean affection."

_Are you so afraid of him? Of yourself? What else is stopping you?_

"Sanity," she snapped, finding it absurd she was talking to herself. But she couldn't help the nagging curiosity - what if the voice was right? What was there to be so afraid of?

* * *

Revan absently twirled a shock baton in his hand, watching the Jedi beneath him struggle to get up. "I told you to answer my question," he said, his voice absolutely bored.

"_Fuck_ you…" the Jedi spat, still half-writhing on the floor.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline your offer," Revan replied calmly. "Now, I ask again: why were you on Tatooine?"

The Jedi had collapsed on his back and was breathing hard. "Why does it matter?" he snapped. "I have nothing of importance to tell you, and if I did, I would die before I let you know it."

Nodding slowly, thoughtfully, Revan tossed the shock stick away, tired of physically beating the prisoner. "We'll see about that," he murmured, using the Force to rape the Jedi's mind of anything useful, breaking past his abysmally pathetic defenses. His deep concentration blocked out the horrible screaming that made even the hardened cell-block guards wince. Sighing as he removed himself from his captive's violated mind, Revan spoke as if talking to a misbehaving child. "See? Was that so hard? The answers I sought were not outside of your capability to give; it would have been much less painful to simply tell them to me."

"And help you?" the Jedi grunted, laughing a little insanely. " You _are_ delusional."

"I have to be to do what I do, Jedi," the Dark Lord returned. "As do you."

"I am _not_ the same as you, _Sith_!"

Revan shrugged. "So you say. But I know the truth."

His prisoner glared at him. "What does that mean?"

The Dark Lord grinned. He wasn't wearing his mask - he wanted this Jedi to see his face. "You're acting just like me. Tell you something?"

The Jedi's dark brows furrowed. "What?"

Revan sighed in annoyance and waved his hand. "How you're reacting to me, my questioning, _this_," he said. "You're acting just like I might." Understanding bloomed in the man's dark eyes and he became silent. "See?" Revan pressed. "Not so different, you and I."

Standing, he retrieved his hooded robe and slipped it on, making sure any residual blood from the few times he had been forced to bludgeon the Jedi was cleaned away. He instructed the guards to give the prisoner food and water and that he would be back later. Returning to his room for now he pondered over what he had learned from the Jedi's mind.

They really didn't know if Bastila was alive or not. There were too many speculative rumors that she was or wasn't, but they were searching as if she was very much alive and in need of their rescue. He snorted. She _was_ very much alive, just not in need of their rescue. She wasn't in need of anyone's rescue. Bastila's proper place was with him, and with him she would stay. He would make sure of it.

* * *

Bastila couldn't take being stuck in her room any longer, tortured by her thoughts. Thinking that checking on Sante would be a good idea, the female Jedi made her way to the med bay and easily found the gruff soldier, smiling as she drew close.

"Oh, the Princess pays a visit," he said in a good-natured manner.

Bastila laughed softly and rolled her eyes. "Yes Sante, I'm paying you a visit. How are you? The kolto's working, I hope."

The soldier nodded. "Yeah; they say I'll be outta here by late tomorrow. The injuries were mostly shallow." He gave Bastila a once-over. "You're looking a little drawn. Something unpleasant?"

She was surprised at Sante's perceptiveness and gave a wearily patient sort of smile. "I spend most of my time with Revan - there's bound to be something unpleasant on a daily basis."

Sante sighed. "I still think you judge him too harshly," he said adamantly. "Revan is a good man. Misguided perhaps, a little off-track maybe, but he's doing what he thinks is his calling."

"I know, Sante," she said quietly, indicating the subject was no longer open.

Sensing this, the soldier nodded and fell silent for a moment. "You know he's got that other Jedi, right?" Bastila nodded. "Do you know him?"

She shook her head. "Never seen him before that I can remember." She paused. "He's in the holding cells, isn't he?"

Sante shrugged. "I don't know - I haven't heard much of anything since I've been in here. I would assume so, though. Revan wanted information from him."

Bastila's eyes were distant. "That means torture," she sighed, remembering the promise she had made to herself to help her fellow Jedi in his captivity.

"Most likely," the soldier agreed warily, not liking the look on Bastila's face. "Princess, please don't do anything stupid. I actually like you, you know."

Bastila gave him an unreadable smile and patted the grizzled man's arm. "That all depends on your definition of 'stupid,'" she returned, getting up and exiting the med bay, searching out the holding cells. Finding who she was looking for was not difficult.

* * *

Revan's walk was purposeful and confident as always - or at least it was until he made it back to the holding cells. His mind raced, his heart making a very sudden, shocking halt for a split-second in his chest. _What the fuck is she doing?_

His eyes were seeing what his mind was having a bit of trouble comprehending: Bastila was in the male Jedi's holding cell, healing him and talking with him. Putting kolto on his wounds. His bare skin. Her hands, were touching that man's bare skin. And he looked as if he was gleaning pleasure from it. His eyes were roaming over her.

Revan's jaw twitched. The Jedi was going to die.

Somehow, through the blind rage that bathed his world in red, Revan kept his composure as he walked into the cell and removed his mask, glaring down at Bastila and the prisoner. Bastila had looked up quickly upon hearing the door open, cursing herself for not sensing Revan's looming presence earlier. Fear immediately froze her actions as she saw how vividly crimson his eyes were.

"Revan..." She had feared this might not go over well.

"Be silent," he growled, his voice as cold as she had ever heard it, his eyes sliding to lock on the man next to her. Bastila quickly backed away as Revan grasped the Jedi by the throat, dragging the man up to eye level and leaning forward to place his mouth next to the captive's ear. "Do you find her attractive?" the Dark Lord growled, his voice barely above a whisper and only audible to the Jedi, arctic and cutting with every syllable. "Do you lust after her? Wish for her? You can't have her," he whispered, his voice suggesting violence now for any similar thought entertained in the Jedi's head. "She is mine." Revan turned to Bastila, who had heard nothing of the exchange, and dropped the man roughly on the floor. "Healing him, I see," he snarled. "How very kind of you. _Do not pamper my prisoners!_" he roared suddenly, causing her to flinch in surprise. His voice became very low. "Because of you, he will suffer, Bastila."

Bastila opened her mouth to speak, to protest.

"Leave!"

The word halted her voice and frustration filled her, knowing she had dug herself a hole and dragged the other Jedi down in it with her, burying him alive, it seemed. Bastila turned and left, seeing nothing she could do to salvage the situation.

The screaming started before she was out of the room.

Fists clenched, knuckles white, she stalked back to her quarters, seething. The _nerve_ of that man to blame the punishment on her...

* * *

(2 days later)

His room was dark, throwing everything into silhouette as he gazed ahead of him, his eyes vacant. The only light was emanating from his desk, pulsing, almost matching his heartbeat. Revan, an old bullet slug in his hand, rippled it over the tops of his fingers, back and forth, back and forth as he thought. That Jedi was weak. It had been simple to break him, to exploit his weaknesses. The problem was, the Dark Lord thought with a smirk - the irony of it - that the Jedi was too much like himself. Too much like he had been before the Mandalorian Wars. Too impatient and angry. Too distrusting of the Jedi Code. Too in touch with emotions and willing to let them run free.

And that made him easy to turn.

It had helped that his anger burned nearly out of control at the Jedi for how he had looked at Bastila, but Revan did take a special pleasure in turning Jedi to his side, in showing them how he was right.

He had kept himself to his room and purposefully avoided Bastila for the past few days, his anger with her and over what she had done still too great. Seeing Bastila's hands on the Jedi's bare skin had awakened a wrath he had never quite had to figure out before. A pressure had formed behind his ears, and then behind his eyes, making it hard to focus his sight. His body had trembled and ice had tightened his core, tingling and buzzing through his heart and lungs and stomach. Breathing had suddenly been impossible, and his mouth had never felt so dry. And as he tried thickly and repeatedly to swallow, disbelief had set in at what he was seeing. Then confusion at his disbelief. Then jealousy, a pain that was almost phantasmal - he wasn't sure if it all hurt at first or not - and crawling, dripping, liquid-hot fury.

Part of him wished to avoid Bastila for a very, very long time. Part of him already longed to see her and missed her presence. Part of him wanted to make her pay for the pain she had caused, but that brought up a very interesting question: Why had her action stung so much? Revan sighed and shifted, the bullet slug still swimming hypnotically over his fingers. It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore the jealousy he felt whenever Bastila interacted with anyone else, especially if that anyone was a male. And Force forbid they touch - it sent him into a frothing rage to see that. Whenever Bastila was near and seemed to be pleased with him, Revan found himself...he dared not go so far as 'happy,' but he did find himself pleasantly satisfied with things. He realized that he was increasingly attempting to _make_ Bastila pleased with him, even if Bastila didn't notice it - his actions were very subtle in nature.

And then the kiss…

Revan wasn't sure how he felt about that. He had enjoyed it, obviously, as it had been good, but there was something else nagging at his mind. Yes, he wanted to feel her lips again, he understood that. He wanted to feel that same heady lust and the excitement of it all, he understood that as well. None of that seemed to cover it.

His eyes looked up from beneath his dark lashes as the door opened, ignoring the surprise he felt upon seeing Bastila in the doorway. She looked quite irate.

"They say they can't get you over the com." They, meaning his Admirals.

"I turned it off."

Her eyes met his now, pools of icy silver-blue, frosted over. "Then perhaps you would like to speak to them through my com?" she asked tightly.

"No."

"Then tell them to stop contacting me to get to you," Bastila snapped.

Revan was silent, the bullet still rippling, his thoughts turning; Bastila's eyes watched the bullet, but he did not see. _Stop contacting her to get to me...Yes, that is how they get to me, isn't it? Through her. I've allowed her to become my weakness._He snorted softly. _And I don't care._ This revelation dragged a darkly amused smile across his lips.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He turned his head to Bastila now, freezing her in place with his heavy gaze. "Of course I'm listening to you," he replied. Standing and slipping the slug into a pocket, he went to the com station in Bastila's room and flipped it on, bringing up a holo-view of one of his commanding officers. "Leave us alone," he said calmly, authoritatively.

"But sir–!"

"I said leave us alone. I shut my com off for a reason, Admiral. Do not annoy my prisoner as well. Whatever it is, I'm sure you are quite able to deal with it yourself." Flipping off the com and turning around, Revan found that Bastila was blocking the doorway still, and it didn't look like she was going to let him through easily this time.

"Speak."

"I am not a kath hound, Revan," Bastila replied stiffly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No, you smell better."

She glared murderously at him. "You're an arse."

"Is that so?" he asked in a sort of bored, humoring way.

"Yes," Bastila nearly hissed, her eyes narrowing.

"Aha." Same bored, almost amused tone. "What else?"

"A bastard."

Revan nodded. "I've heard that one before, Bastila. Give me something new."

Bastila took a few steps toward him and brandished a pointed finger at him. "A sex-driven nerf-herder who can't keep his hands or his mouth to himself!"

He chuckled now. "I'll remember that in future arguments."

"Why? I just want to know why, Revan," Bastila demanded, both hands on her hips now.

A brow raised in response. "Why what? There are a lot of answers I could give to that vague question."

"Why did you kiss me?"

Revan thought for a moment. "Because I wanted to."

The woman glared venomously at him. "And so that gives you the right?"

Revan shrugged. "You didn't stop me."

"I was shocked! What did you expect me to do?" she demanded.

He shrugged again. "Slap me?" _Which wouldn't have been wise_, he mused.

Bastila rolled her eyes. "I should have," she grumbled.

Revan took a step closer. "Why didn't you?"

She shot him a warning glare as he moved closer, but he ignored it. "I have no idea! Fit of insanity, perhaps?"

"You know you enjoyed it."

Staring at him, livid, Bastila closed the small distance between them and stuck a finger in his face. "Don't you _dare_ assume to know how I felt about what you did!" she hissed. So now he was Dark Lord of the Sith, _and_ her shrink? _Pompous arsehole..._

Revan merely glanced at her finger, a lazy grin working its way across his lips. "You want me to do it again."

"Oh, you _bastard_!" she yelled, turning away from him for a second only to whirl back around in an effort to slap him as hard as she could. Revan caught her flying hand and Bastila merely tried with the other, having just as little success as he caught that hand as well. With a growl, Revan shoved Bastila against the wall right next to the door, keeping hold of her hands.

"That was very rude, Bastila," he grunted quietly. He had told her on Rhen Var not to slap him again, and she had just tried twice.

"So punish me," the woman spat with a roll of her eyes, greatly annoyed that she was stuck.

"I will," he rumbled back, leaning down and forcefully claiming her mouth with his. Bastila inhaled sharply through her nose, not expecting Revan's kiss. Her hands balled into fists and she tried to wrench them free of Revan's very strong grip, but to no avail. He pulled back as she jerked her face to the side, and she caught sight of his wicked smirk, the vision only making her lips and body tingle more intensely. She felt hot and her heart was beating a little hard.

"Get off me," she demanded, trying to land a kick on his shin. He easily blocked it and Bastila winced as he roughly yanked her arms above her head, pinning them there and effectively immobilizing her head. Her eyes narrowed for a different reason as she felt Revan's firm, warm body press against hers. "Get. _Off_," she said, her tone threatening pain if he did not obey.

Revan laughed. "Absolutely not," was his returned purr as his smoldering green-grey orbs gazed down into her furiously blazing silvery blue ones.

_Oh don't you dare…_

With another smirk he leaned down again, meeting Bastila's glare every centimeter of the way and slid his lips against hers in a much softer kiss than before, making the burning throb that suffused her body pulse much more intensely. His eyes slid shut after a second and he pinned her wrists with only one hand, freeing his other to slip into her dark, silky hair. Revan was surprised she wasn't resisting more as he kissed her, but he wanted her too badly to think much on it at the moment. His body told him he was excited, aroused, ready; his mind told him he would never get that lucky.

Every time Revan's lips met hers, Bastila felt her resolve to fight him weaken. He seemed to sense this and slowly let his grasp on her wrists go, freeing her arms. She grabbed his hair, pulling hard, trying one last time to force him away, but it only elicited a growl from Revan and another firm kiss. Using the Force somehow never entered her mind. Defeated, her senses enveloped with him, her grip slackened enough to end the pain it caused before her hands slid down to his chest to push lightly, a silent plea for him to keep his self-control. Her body wanted his to be this close - closer, even - and it reacted instinctually to his, making her afraid that if he didn't control himself, she might not be able to stop this.

Only a few moments later though, her body betrayed her once more and her hands moved of their own accord, giving in to subconscious desire. Sliding back, one hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt while the other pressed into his firm shoulder. Revan felt this and shifted closer, letting his left hand wander to her lower back to bring their hips together. Feeling Bastila push him closer was a gratifying shock and his mind ran through the possibility that she wanted this too.

Emotion that Bastila knew was not her own suddenly trickled into her being: pleasure, contentment, satisfaction, a sliver of triumph, a sense of accomplishment...and all of it felt saturated with Revan's essence. What was going on?

"_I want her...She'll never let you in - she doesn't love you, and you know that's what it would take."_

Bastila made a soft noise at this, the sudden intrusion of Revan's voice into her head startling her. He took the noise to be one of enjoyment, and deepened the kiss he was giving her. Bastila _did_ enjoy that, his action much more gentle than some of the other kisses he had been giving. A grunt came from Revan again, but this one was not of pleasure, and her lips suddenly felt cool as his left. His hand disentangled itself from her hair, the other slid away from her lower back and he stepped away, turning towards her room's door. It was surprising to her how cold she felt with Revan being gone.

A knock came at her door at that moment, and Bastila mused with a sort of dark humor that Revan, though so seemingly enraptured with her, still kept his senses quite completely about himself.

"Enter," the Dark Lord said, his voice hinting nothing at the tempered passion he had just been a part of.

"Sir...it's the Jedi prisoner…" a Sith stuttered as he haltingly stepped into the room, his fear evident.

"What about him?"

"Well...he's…"

"Spit it out!"

The Sith cringed. "He's going into seizures!" he replied quickly.

"Seizures?" Revan said incredulously, his anger flaring. "Get a doctor to stabilize him you fool! Go! Now!"

"Sir, we've tried! Nothing's working!"

"Son of a bitch - do I have to do everything myself?" he snarled, whirling and stalking into his room, donning an outer robe and a cloth mask. He paused as he walked through Bastila's room again, turning to the female present. "Stay here," he ordered tersely, the remembrance of her hands on the male Jedi's skin still very fresh in his mind. Revan didn't want her anywhere near that man again. _You're getting soft_, his mind taunted and he frowned.

_Not soft_, he snapped back.

_Then what?_

_Needy_, he replied with irony, snapping around and marching in the direction of the Jedi's holding cell.

Bastila mouth turned down as she watched him go, annoyed that her body hadn't yet calmed from Revan's actions. She couldn't deny any longer that there was something between them, some sort of physical ardor, at the very least. When he touched her, her body ached for him; when he kissed her, it set her aflame. Bastila wondered if he felt the same, or if his actions were just a means to an end, the end being her in his bed. _Then why was he thinking about me loving him?_ she wondered. _Does he want me to love him just so that I might sleep with him?_

Bastila knew Revan had his moral pitfalls so to speak, but she didn't think he'd be so cruel as to capture her heart solely for the purpose of sex. Then another thought entered her head: Why _had_ she heard Revan in her mind? Why had his thoughts slid into hers? It had never happened before...did it have to do with kissing her? Even then, why would kissing her make his thoughts, his mental voice mingle with hers?

She rubbed her forehead, thinking back to a subject she had pondered only once before. If Revan's thoughts were simply popping into her head, that meant there was a link between them somehow, and that link was through the Force. _We must be bonded then...there's no other explanation for it, unless he purposefully put his thoughts out there for me to hear_, she surmised. _And that isn't like Revan._ She paused in her thinking for a moment. _Did my saving his life really interlink our fates that much? Was I bound to be by his side as soon as I grabbed on to his fading life?_

This was something she had never really pondered before, that perhaps fate had destined that she would be near Revan. But why? _So you could find yourself._ Bastila frowned, though she knew the thought was true. Revan had indeed shown her more about herself than she had ever seen during her time with the Jedi. So she understood why she was here, but what was the purpose of this in Revan's life? What reason did fate have to put him near her? _To remind him of who he is._ Bastila knew that these thoughts must have been coming from the Force's prompting, because this knowledge was not hers. So she was here to show Revan back to who he was...but how? She knew nothing of how he thought about their situation; he never showed such things to her.

_But now you can know - you can get in his head_, that eerily omniscient voice prompted her. It was true; she could, if all held up like it had just a few moments ago. Her curiosity about him was certainly strong enough...and she had to admit that the physical gratification was better than she had anticipated. Now Bastila just hoped she could keep all of this under control.

* * *

_Smack!_

The slap reverberated around the room, followed by a grunt.

"Think you're clever, don't you? That you can fuck around with me and get away with it?" The male Jedi spat at Revan's face in response and let his head loll back, tired and in pain. Revan laughed. "Having a bout of conscience, were we? Decided that maybe pledging allegiance to me wasn't what you should do, so you'd just go into fake seizures to keep my men from getting a hold of you? Pain does make one say funny things sometimes, but this is the most interesting display of cowardice I've seen in a long while," the Dark Lord mocked.

The Jedi gave a feeble laugh and Revan waited to see what was so amusing. "You're...you're not even a real Sith…" he forced out, still chuckling.

Revan yanked the man's head up by the hair. "And what do you mean by that?"

The prisoner smiled, his teeth smeared red, glistening wetly with blood. "You're a cheap mockery. Nominal in...relation."

"And this should be insulting to me why? I am fully aware that there was a race of Sith that came before, real humanoids. They've been extinct for ages now, so why should I give a damn?" Revan said, not playing all of his cards. He wanted to see if this would bait the Jedi into saying something about the True Sith.

The man laughed again, some blood dribbling out from between his lips and onto his chin. "Ignorant fool!" he spat weakly. "Extinct? Far from it. Hiding. Waiting. But not anymore."

Revan's body tensed, his muscles coiling in anticipation. "Not anymore? What does that mean?"

The Jedi shook his head. "Why should I help you? You're putting the galaxy under a tyrannical rule, just like they would. I _hope_ you're destroyed by them."

"You speak as if this threat is imminent," the Sith Lord spoke carefully. "And you know little about me, Jedi, so keep such musings to yourself. If I wanted to put the galaxy under tyrannical rule, as you say, I would simply burn, pillage and rape everything that I could lay my hands on. The galaxy is in remarkably stable shape for such a tumultuous conflict, wouldn't you say?"

"Perhaps. But…" he winced, paused. "You are still wrong."

"It will seem so to many. Not to me."

Another laugh. "You're insane."

"That may be true. Now tell me what prompted this babble about nominal and true Sith," Revan demanded.

"Why?"

The Sith Lord's irises darkened to a dangerous green-grey, a storm all but visibly swirling in his eyes. "Because if you don't, I will cut off one finger at a time until you do," he snarled quietly.

The Jedi's face showed conflicted interests: resistance, but weariness at this game, and a creeping apathy for the galactic situation around him - his own pain wasn't worth caring about such things. "It's why I was on Tatooine. With mercenaries. I wasn't looking for Bastila - you already know that. I was sent to investigate the Sand People; a Jedi was lost to them a month beforehand. When...when I scouted it out, I saw that the Raiders were...zombies. Shells of their former selves. And they carried some sort of brand on their skin. I took images of the brand back to my enclave to see if it was a known symbol - they never told me...directly, but a rumor came around that it was an ancient Sith moniker, and that it carried an ill omen if it was being seen again." The Jedi took a shaky breath. "I was sent back to monitor things, and that's...when you showed up," he grumbled, wincing again, his speech halting.

Revan's mind was racing. The Sith were back. True Sith. Now. Exactly what had been foretold to him years before.

If the Jedi wasn't lying.

Roughly, he yanked the Jedi up by his shirt. "If you are lying to me, I swear I will kill you and anyone who bears your name," he threatened.

"No, no - I'm not lying!" the man insisted, coughing again. "I know what I saw, but that's it. If it's Sith or not, I can't tell you for sure. But I know what I saw. I'm not lying."

"Pray your masters were not lying as well. I will hold you accountable for their false words," he growled, dropping the prisoner and exiting the room, his thoughts consuming him.

Ancient Sith...ill omen….it all carried the same sense of foreboding and familiarity that Revan had felt upon seeing those Tuskans branded on Tatooine. And if the Sith were here...The Dark Lord grunted. He needed to pay his 'friends' on Dantooine a visit. Then perhaps Coruscant, if this extended that far, though he doubted it did.

Without warning, Revan's ship shuddered, and a reverberating growl vibrated his body, his ship snarling like a massive beast awakened from slumber. A blaring, deafening alarm sounded soon after, every inch of the vessel bathed in a red glow now - the power had been cut; the emergency generator had kicked in.

"_Attention all personnel! We have been ambushed by a contingent of Republic vessels! Boarding capsules detected! Weapons free; I repeat, weapons are free!"_

"Fuck," Revan cursed under his breath, snapping around and stalking back to the bridge of his ship, his black cape flowing like satin darkness behind him. The door whooshed open to reveal a chaotic room. "Report!" the Dark Lord barked, storming to the centermost part of the room.

"They jumped out of hyperspace right on top of us!" someone shouted back amidst the din. "We don't know how - we were sitting ducks! We've been hit by turbolasers and concussion missiles, and our shields are down - shit!" the voice cursed as the cruiser rocked again, sending men and women tumbling across the room.

"Right her!" Revan snapped, grasping a handrail to keep from ending up like the others.

"Damn damn damn! Someone get that power back on! We need those shields!"

Revan needed to visually assess the situation. "Open the view bay!"

The massive metal eyelids slid apart to reveal a scene he knew all too well. Red and green laser fire peppered across the expanse of the black backdrop that was space, fighters streaking and banking, explosions ripping crafts apart, the ships maneuvering and dodging as best they could. A few of the other cruisers in the group had fared much better, finding time to get their fighters out of the hangar bays and retaliate.

"Deploy our fighters! We need to divert laser fire from our ship! And _someone_ get on restoring power!" the Dark Lord snapped, whirling as another alarm sounded and the female voice of the computer sounded over all channels.

"_Multiple hull breaches on level two. Multiple hull breaches on level two. Depressurization in five minutes."_

Revan's gut clenched as he realized that was the level that Bastila and her family were on.

"Sir! We've been boarded! Reports of Republic soldiers on multiple levels!" someone else shouted at him.

For just a moment, the situation threatened to overwhelm him. It would have been too much for any normal man to handle, such a sudden eruption of chaos with so many decisions to make, so many lives in his hands. For just a moment, it was almost too much for his mind to process at once.

Everyone on the bridge halted for precious seconds shivers and feelings of cold dread passing through all as they heard a slow, deep, rising laugh. It was controlled, calm, but maniacal, insane and evil, made all the more disconcerting by the expressionless mask it emanated from. Revan laughed from somewhere deep inside of himself, welcoming the fury and hell of the moment. If it was a fight these Republic ships wanted, then he would give them one for the HoloNet tomorrow.

With a disturbingly sharp snap-hiss, the Sith Lord ignited his crimson blade and faced down his bridge. "Kill them all," he ordered, his voice dead as he stalked out of the massive room, his very air predatory. With each heavy thud of his boots, his thoughts shifted, swirled, crashed together. He had a family to protect - _his_ family, he thought with a twinge of dark irony. Revan snorted behind his mask. He would deprive the mothers of the Republic their sons and daughters to save a family who he pathetically attached himself to, who was only near him because of the violence and hell he had unleashed upon the galaxy. He knew little of Helena and Ryric, save that they both loathed him quite openly; his only true link into their begrudging acceptance was Bastila. Bastila, who he found himself closer to every time he saw her. Bastila, who was breaking down every wall he had ever thrown up to keep everyone and everything out.

The Dark Lord slipped though the sea of rushing men and women - his soldiers, followers, disciples - with surprising grace, though the black aura that rippled from him parted the frothing mass with ease. The sounds of battle reached his ears as he neared his destination and he cursed, his gloved fist clenching around his lightsaber more tightly, his pace increasing. Again, Revan tested the bond between himself and his prisoner.

"_Bastila!"_

"_About damn time you showed up, Revan!" _her sharp, accented voice snapped back in his head, making him smile. She must have known about their bond then, if she responded that quickly and easily. The smile turned to a feral snarl as he pushed his head around the corner to draw a bead on his enemies. It was a well-entrenched firefight, leaving Revan one simple course of action: walk directly into battle. His movement purposeful and sharp, his soldiers immediately held their fire as he drew in front of their line, watching as their Dark Lord decimated the Republic soldiers.

Revan, with unparalleled precision and grace, twirled his lightsaber in front of him, creating a blurred shield of red that blocked and deflected all blaster fire the Republic soldiers tried to fell him with. He Force-blocked a grenade as he advanced, the explosion ripping open the wall to his left and splattering the area with gore. A scream rose above the din of blaster fire, high, pained, frantic - a soldier that had been near the blast was staring at his right side, his eyes rolling crazily as he could not comprehend why he had no arm and the bloody ivory of his ribs were showing. With a swift movement that devoured the last few feet of distance between himself and his attackers, Revan thrust his burning blade forward, impaling a man before he could draw his blade to defend.

Spinning to his left, the Dark Lord smashed an armored elbow into another man's head and kicked backwards as another Republic soldier tried to knife him from behind. Slashing down in front and then turning on his heel, Revan cleaved the first man in two and decapitated the second with a flick of his wrist. As the two lifeless bodies fell, the Dark Lord emotionlessly advanced, parrying the strike of a vibroblade, turning his wrist in a circle to push the weapon uselessly aside and burn his crimson blade through the Republic soldier's neck. He collapsed, what was left of his throat gurgling in a feeble attempt to hold on to his life.

His path now clear enough to continue on, Revan left the few remaining soldiers to his men's hands, hearing the blaster fire commence again immediately and more bodies hit the ground.

"_Where are you?"_ he demanded.

"_With my family."_

Revan had assumed as much. He cut down another foolish soldier who threw himself at the Sith Lord in a pathetic effort to kill him and crushed his weapon hand so forcefully into another enemy's face that he immediately collapsed. Whether he died, Revan didn't know and didn't care. Smacking the panel that opened the door to the Shans' family room his eyes quickly scanned from behind his mask and saw they were all present and all safe. Bastila was holding a vibroblade, her bright eyes alert.

"You're unhurt?" he asked quickly, knowing that his eyes may have missed something.

"We're f —watch out!" Bastila yelled. Revan started to turn but it was too late to avoid the blade; he grunted as he felt it lodge into the back of his armor, but no pain formed. His armor had stopped the metal before it reached him. Revan, annoyed, turned deliberately and stared down at the Republic soldier who could only gaze back at him in utter horror as his impending death became apparent. Reaching behind himself and yanking the knife out, the Dark Lord inspected it briefly.

"Next time, don't use a regular blade," he told the man. Faster than the soldier could see, he snapped his arm around and imbedded the knife into the man's skull to the hilt, watching impassively as the body dropped and twitched from the brain trauma, ignoring Helena's "No!" and Ryric's grunt. Deactivating his lightsaber and dragging the man's body outside, Revan locked the room's door for now, enclosing himself with the family. He did not wish to incur another interruption by his lack of foresight.

Helena's face was deathly pale, and Ryric only stared wide-eyed at Revan. The Sith Lord pushed back his hood and removed his mask, laying it on a table.

"What are you doing?" Bastila demanded. "Shouldn't you be fighting? Or is that beneath you?"

Revan attributed these caustic comments to stress. "I have been, and I will return once I have ensured that neither you or your family will be harmed."

"I'm not helpless, Revan," the female Jedi grunted.

"Would you kill your own men, Bastila? Men who fight on your side? No, you would not, because they would not fight you. They would take you from me, and hand you back to the Jedi. I will not have you taken from me," he replied evenly, his eyes more grey than green, attesting to their steely hardness.

There was something in Revan's words that made Bastila pause for just a fraction and look at him differently. _"Revan, this is dangerous for you,"_ she reminded him.

"_I will not lose you," _was his resolute reply.

"_Even if they took me, you would not lose me, Revan. What you've done can't be erased by the Jedi," _Bastila told him, searching his eyes for some sign that her words reached him, the him that was inside.

The man stared back at Bastila, thinking, with some amusement, that she never ceased to surprise him. _"I still would rather not have to be troubled with the annoyance of retrieving you from their rapacious clutches,"_ he grunted in an answer.

"Why in the hell are you two just staring at each other? There is a _battle_ going on, in case you didn't notice!" Ryric burst, causing Revan's gaze to slide to the boy and silence him.

"Do not meddle in things you know nothing about, boy," he related coolly. "You are so eager to send me out to battle, but yet I am sure that if I handed you a blade, you would balk at the thought." The Dark Lord leaned down to get right in Ryric's face, his voice lowering. "Just remember, when all of this is done, that I risked my life for yours and your family's, like your father would have done, was he still alive. Remember that I did it in his stead, and yours, since you will not fill his shoes."

Ryric's face turned red with fury. "I can't fight my own brothers," he hissed back in a whisper.

Revan gave a soft laugh and a disturbingly lifeless grin. "I wasn't talking about now."

The brother swallowed and took a step back. "You're insane," he grunted, his hazel-green eyes dark and wary.

"You would not be the first to think so," the Sith Lord replied as he turned away and put his mask on again, drawing up his hood and fingering his lightsaber thoughtfully. "Where would be the safest place for you…" he muttered. Suddenly, the ship was thrown into tumult again, spasms of the craft throwing Revan against the nearest wall, sprawling the Shan family out on the floor. "Dammit!" he cursed, scrambling to his feet. Static burst into his ears as his helmet's personal channel crackled to life.

"_Sir, we're going to get blown to the Force and back if something doesn't change very soon,"_ his Admiral, Saul Karath, informed him with only the barest hint of stress coming through in his voice.

Revan grunted. "Any suggestions, Karath? I can't do much but maneuver the ship and hope they miss at this point."

"_They're telling me the shields are completely shot to hell; that there's no way we're getting them back up any time soon. The generator's blown, and our engines are beginning to fail. If they score direct hits again, it could tear our ship in two,"_ the Admiral replied calmly.

"I'll think of something. Do what you can until then."

"_Certainly, sir."_

"Karath?" Bastila asked. "Wasn't that one of the Republic Admirals during the Mandalorian Wars?"

Revan didn't respond. He had the solution. "Bastila, come with me," he ordered, opening the door and walking out, dragging her for a moment by the arm, figuring she would not obey him.

"Wha–Revan, what the bloody hell are you doing?" the female Jedi yelled after him, following quickly as she was yanked out the door, ducking as things sparked and exploded around them.

"Hey!" Ryric barked.

"Where are you taking her?" Helena screeched, but was ignored by both.

"Your Battle Meditation - I need you to use it," he replied as he half-jogged to where he prayed his ship was free of Republic soldiers, cutting through maintenance passageways to avoid skirmishes and save time.

"What?" she all but screeched. "You think I'll just consent to that?"

Revan whirled on her, his blank mask staring down at her. "Yes," he said, "because if you don't, you will condemn us all to death."

Bastila felt her throat go impossibly tight and she thrust a hand out to steady herself against a wall as the ship rocked and shuddered again.

"_Sir, that was cutting it rather close."_

"I hear you, Karath! I'm working on it!" Revan focused on Bastila again. "Bastila, if you refuse, you will be killing yourself and your family. I cannot bring this battle back. A victory is out of my grasp at this point," he told her, his voice strained.

Somehow, Bastila noticed that he didn't mention that she would be killing him as well. Briefly, she wondered if he thought himself so unimportant to her. If he did, he was very, very wrong. "If I do this...where will you be?" she asked, still hesitating.

"I will fight," he answered.

Suddenly, it occurred to Bastila how empty her life would be if this man were to suddenly depart from it. With a frown, she grabbed the top of Revan's breastplate and pulled him down, pushing his mask up with her other hand to bring his face into view. It was relieving to see his stormy green eyes again, to let her eyes take in the familiar angles of his handsome face. "I will do what you ask, Revan, but you had better be around to catch the hell I'm going to give you after this is over," she told him firmly.

His mouth curved into a smirk. "Wouldn't miss it," he replied, pulling his mask back down and turning again, his voice authoritative now, the moment over. "What kind of atmosphere do you need to do this?"

Bastila ducked another sparking explosion. "All I need is an empty room. Everything else I can block out," she responded quickly.

Revan made a sharp turn and crashed into the wall as the ship groaned and trembled.

"_Sir...not to be a nuisance…"_

"I know, Karath - a solution is on the way. Trust me a few moments longer."

"_My trust never wavered, sir," _was the calm, self-assured, slightly sarcastic reply.

With another sharp turn, Revan ducked into another corridor. "I don't know that I can give you an empty room…"

"I'll work with whatever I get then."

Revan snorted as the doors to the bridge opened to reveal the utter chaos within. "This?"

"Might be a problem," Bastila muttered.

"I can put a barrier of silence around you. That should help."

She nodded. "It will. Just tell me where to sit."

Karath, who was at the head of the room, turned and eyed Bastila. "This is your solution, I presume?"

"She's the only chance we've got of pulling a victory out of this. At the very least, we can get our collective asses out of here in retreat and come out with our lives still intact," the Dark Lord replied, quickly pushing Karath aside and halting Bastila at the head of the room. "So you can see it all, if you need to," he murmured in her ear, stepping away and concentrating for a moment to create the sphere of silence around her. He nodded to her and watched as she sank down to sit on the floor. A blue glow rippled around her and then moved outwards, dissipating, and Bastila seemed to be frozen in place, deep concentration etched into her beautiful face. Revan grabbed Karath by the collar. "You make sure nothing happens to her. Our survival depends on it," he growled, his voice carrying with it the implication of a terrible threat if Karath failed.

"Her survival will be my utmost priority," the older man answered, his voice never wavering from its calm baritone. Karath pulled out a blaster as the Dark Lord left, fully prepared to carry out his orders. He respected Revan completely, and what Revan found important, Karath made important to himself. Revan knew this and felt no trepidation that Bastila would meet any harm as he left to aid his men in killing the Republic soldiers who had boarded his ship.

* * *

"_Captain sir! The Sith are rallying!"_

A gloved hand flew up to an earpiece in surprise. "What? How in the hell is that possible? We had them beat back on all fronts!"

"_I have no idea sir, but they just crushed our left flank and broke our line!"_

"Damn! Divert all available fighters to fix that gap! We have to drive them back!" the Captain grunted in response. How was it feasible that the Sith were suddenly one step ahead of every one of his men? Five seconds ago his pilots had been laying waste to the Sith fighters, and now it was like the entire will of the Force had shifted to decree that he would lose this battle - and from the way things were looking, lose it he might.

* * *

Revan waded his way through the dead bodies strewn about the corridors, seeing that he didn't have to do much in the way of fighting now that Bastila had boosted the morale and will of all his men. Her talent was truly amazing, and he smirked a little behind his mask as he mused that her strength of will to perform Battle Meditation likely bled into her strength of will and stubbornness with him. His soldiers cheered as he passed on his way back to the bridge, attesting to the importance of this victory that Bastila had provided.

The Dark Lord entered the spacious room and stepped up the semi-inclined ramp, stopping behind where Bastila sat. It was a beautiful sight, the view before him. His Sith fighters were decimating the Republic forces, and a Republic cruiser was breaking apart right in front of his eyes. The battle was all but over. The rest of the Republic forces were retreating, but they would not make it out alive. Placing a gloved hand on Bastila's shoulder, he gently brought her out of her concentration. She opened her eyes and looked ahead for only a few moments before they glazed over and she slumped to the floor.

Heart lurching at this and highly alarmed, Revan knelt down and ripped a glove off, feeling for her pulse. It was weak. Scooping her up, he swiftly navigated the corridors back to his room, using his COM channel to order his doctor to meet him there. The doctor was present when Revan arrived, concern etched on his wise face.

"She collapsed?" he asked, quickly undoing Bastila's top and pushing it aside. Revan tried not to look, but failed rather miserably. Her skin was as pale as moonlight suffused with the pink of life, and it looked smooth beyond comparison, softer than anything Revan could remember seeing before.

"Yes," he answered after a moment. "I put my hand on her shoulder to wake her from her trance; she opened her eyes and crumpled."

His doctor checked Bastila's vitals and gave her a cursory inspection. "She's probably just suffering from exhaustion," he told Revan, pulling out a few syringes and preparing one of her arms. "I'll give a small shot of kolto and a two nutrient injections; it should help her body balance out again. Let her sleep for now. Everything sounds fine, just a little fainter than usual."

The Dark Lord nodded, thanking his doctor and returning his attention to Bastila's unconscious form once the shots had been administered and his friend had left. Quickly removing himself of his armor, Revan set about getting Bastila's confining, tight Jedi clothes off. He found himself bothered as he did this, arousal creeping up on him though he did not actively welcome it. Undressing her was a very sensual act; it brought him back to when she had undressed him on Rhen Var, and the entire cyclical thought train woke his body up. First, he removed her boots, unclasping them and working them off her feet. Then he set about the sash that was on her waist, and her belt. Lastly, he lifted her with the utmost gentleness and peeled off her bodysuit from the top down, tugging slowly as he went so as not to accidentally wake her.

As he turned back around from folding her clothes and placing them on the floor, Revan felt a sort of primal pull low in his gut when his gaze fell upon Bastila this bared to his eyes. Sight was a gift he had been given, but touch was something he had to take for himself. With a soft, careful pressure, Revan started at her feet and explored them for a moment, feeling how small they were in his hands, then her ankles and calves, surprised at the well-toned definition of her lower legs. His palms slid a little coarsely against her knees and thighs as he marveled at the silkiness of her pale skin; his touched glided inside and out on her legs, feeling everything, and then to her waist, where he thumbed her hips and realized just how little Bastila was compared to him - his hands covered a good deal of her middle. He let them slide up until his fingertips met the soft curve of the underside of her breasts, and he respectfully slid his hands around, not touching them. Bastila's shoulders almost seemed fragile under his hands, her collarbone too slender and polished to be for use - everything about Bastila seemed that way: too perfectly crafted to be for performance. It all looked, to Revan, to be purely for show, to be marveled at and appreciated.

A corner of his mouth curved into a smile as he thought of just how tough the woman laying unconscious on his bed really was, despite how much her body wanted to deny it. Bastila had saved his life twice, and given him so much more than just a listening ear that it forced Revan to sit on the edge of the bed as he realized how much Bastila was involved with...everything in his life. They were bonded - that was what came to mind first. A Force bond was not something to be taken lightly, and not something that occurred often outside of a Master/Padawan relationship. Yet here he was, the Dark Lord of the Sith, permanently bonded to a Jedi whose sole purpose for coming into contact with him had been to extinguish his life or imprison him. Such irony in that. There was such irony in everything between himself and Bastila, though, that he had come to see it as a part of life: if it didn't seem possible, it would probably happen - that was his philosophy now.

Covering Bastila's nearly bare body with the black sheets on his bed, Revan returned his reluctant attention to his job. Speaking with each of his ships' commanders, he assessed the damage, allotted repair funds and parts, reassigned men to different posts to replenish the number lost, and confirmed that the battle was over, they had won, and the aftermath of sore recovery could begin.

Forcing himself up out of his seat and to the shower to clean up, Revan rinsed off quickly and made a direct line for his bed. He felt both exhausted and energized; mentally, he was drained, but physically his body was just getting warmed up. Succumbing to his mental collapse, Revan climbed into his bed and shifted until he was next to Bastila. He draped an arm over her flat stomach, buried his face into her soft, clean-smelling hair and plummeted into blackness, sleeping like the dead.

* * *

Ryric, being the teenager he was, found himself very, very bored after all the excitement from the ambush died down. He was sitting on his bed, fidgeting and thinking - and there was so much to think about.

His father, Caedmon Shan, had died a month prior, and the loss still ached deep in Ryric's core. His mother's sickness had progressed rapidly as her grief robbed her body of strength, and then the news of Bastila's disappearance had struck, leaving Helena nearly catatonic from mourning for a good week. Ryric grimaced as he remembered those five days in which all Helena had done was barely pick at her food. She hadn't left her room on the ship, nor had she moved from her bed. And now...now _this_. His teeth clenched together as he thought about 'this.' It would have hurt less, were his sister dead - or so he believed. Knowing that Bastila was in the hands of Darth Revan, _knowing_ that somehow, in _some_ way, his sister _felt_ something for that…_monster_…

Ryric stood jerkily and began to pace. It made him burn with anger, with hate, with the feeling of betrayal. How _could_ she? He grunted angrily, his body tense as he stalked around the room. Helena's blue eyes followed her son's form worriedly.

"Ryric…" she trailed softly.

The teenager snapped his head around. "Hn?" he grunted, still pacing.

"What are you thinking about?"

"About how I can't believe my sister actually _likes_ that bastard."

"Ryric! Language," Helena chided, then sighed. "I don't understand it either, but...Bastila isn't foolish. She was always a very cautious child. I doubt she would give this Revan a chance if he was completely gone."

"He's the Dark Lord of the Sith! He betrayed the Republic! He's plunged us into _another_ war!" her son exploded.

"I know, Ryric, I know. It doesn't seem sane." She rubbed her forehead and sighed again. "Bastila is her own woman now. We may not agree with her decision, but I think we should trust her judgement for now, until we can learn more about Revan."

"I don't want to learn more! What's there to learn, mother? He was one of the greatest Jedi this galaxy's ever seen, and he decided to use that power to become one of the most powerful Sith Lords!"

"Stop yelling, Ryric," Helena ordered, enervated. "I know his history - everyone does. Bastila most certainly does. Obviously she knows things we don't."

"Or he's controlling her," the son snapped sullenly.

"Have a little more faith in your sister," Helena returned evenly.

Ryric huffed. "I'm going to go see how she's doing."

The sixteen-year-old boy quickly escaped the room he shared with his mother and crossed the short gap that spanned the breadth of a hallway, knocking on Bastila's door. His handsome but still slightly adolescent face dragged down into a scowl when there was no answer. Pressing the panel that opened the door, Ryric entered his sister's room and looked around. "Bas?" he called quietly, seeing and hearing nothing to indicate that Bastila was present. Checking the refresher cautiously, just to be sure, Ryric exhaled in frustration. Where was she?

As he turned, his eyes caught sight of the door that connected Bastila's room to Revan's. No...She wouldn't be in there...would she? Afraid and angry at the same time, he approached the door and pressed an ear to it, hearing nothing coming from Revan's room either. A tingle suddenly coursed through him, and he jerked his face back from the door. Revan was awake, this he somehow innately knew. Young face set in a near-snarl, Ryric smacked the door panel. His breathing caught in his chest.

_No - anything but that..._


End file.
